


Worth It

by Rowlingismyspiritanimal



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Drama, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Hogwarts, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Sex, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:49:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 40,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9816569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowlingismyspiritanimal/pseuds/Rowlingismyspiritanimal
Summary: Hermione travels back in time to save her former potions master from a horrible death, but finds the task to be much more difficult than expected due to... well, due to Severus Snape's infuriating personality.Eventual HG/SS. Possibly should be rated E but I'm taking a walk on the [M]ild side and rating it M instead. Be forewarned.Canon-compliant by and large.





	1. A Visit to the Past

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: No matter how many Polyjuice Potions I take, I will never be JK Rowling. All characters belong to the queen herself.  
> Also, any and all reviews would be lovely :)

"SILENCE!" A bellow echoed across the chambers as a dark figure swept into the classroom, its black robes swishing behind it with an audible swoosh.

The class, who had been nervously chattering to one another, suddenly went quiet, staring up at the pale face of their professor.

"Can anyone tell me what the final color of Draught of Peace should be?" He surveyed the room, sighing when he only saw one hand raised, its owner eagerly waving its hand as her arm strained upwards. "Anyone other than Miss Granger perhaps?" he asked snidely, looking disdainfully down at her. A different hand went up in the back corner of the classroom: "Yes Malfoy?"

"I believe a turquoise blue, Professor Snape," he answered, his lips curving up into a pleased grin at being chosen over the know-it-all Granger.

"Very good Malfoy, that is 10 points to Slytherin," Snape replied smoothly, surveying the scowling Hermione in the front of the classroom dismissively.

"Now if you will all turn to page 108 in your books, we can begin our study of…."

o-o-o-o-o-o

Hermione watched the scene in front of her, her lips rounded in a small o as she took in the sight before her from her position behind the classroom's backdoor. Thank god she had had the foresight to wear the invisibility cloak before using the time turner in front of the doors to the tunnels leading to Snape's chambers. God only knows what he would have said upon flinging his classroom door open to a slightly older version of the very Granger sitting in his classroom. Time had rounded out her curves and tamed her bushy locks just as war had hardened her, her jaw set and eyes steely. There would be no mistaking that she was a different, more mature Hermione and she shuddered to think what he would have done upon witnessing her.

 _Okay great now that I have almost fucked up the very fabric of time,_ she thought to herself ruefully, _maybe I should go to the time I was supposed to and stop watching the nightmares of potion classes of the past._ She took one last long look at the imposing figure of her former Potions master, reaching down to clasp the shimmering time turner around her neck – specially given to her by Dumbledore – and turn it more precisely a single year forward.

As the world turned hazy around her, she contemplated the use of this time turner of clearly enormous capabilities. _Why this? Why am I using it for this?_ she questioned as the world focused into clarity for her once more and she found herself witnessing an altogether different sight –

Professor Slughorn was surveying the group of students, hard at work around their cauldrons. The noticeable scent of fresh cut grass, new parchment, and an as yet unidentified scent reached her nose. _Amortentia,_ she thought, pleased that she had at last reached the correct time period. Class appeared to be ending, the students chattering to one another about their various degrees of success with their potions, as she slowly creaked the backdoor open and slunk into the dungeon's tunnels behind the classroom.

She paused at the door to Snape's chambers, taking in the sliver and green adornments that decorated the entrance. _Alohomora,_ she whispered, tapping the doorknob. Instead of hearing the satisfying click of the door unlocking, as she expected, she was suddenly thrown backwards by a strong force, her body curving upwards in the air and bouncing off of the upper walls of the tunnel. She steeled herself as she fell back towards the ground with a painful thud, the world going black as the wind was knocked from her lungs.

* * *

When she came to, her head pounding like she had drunk several butterbeers too many the night before, she opened her eyes to a wand being pointed directly at her. By the thin, sallow form of a dead man. _Well, a not yet dead man,_ her inner consciousness whispered, as she took in his furious countenance.

"Who are you?" he asked coldly, jabbing the wand closer to her face. _Who am I?_ she wondered, confused by his apparent failure to recognize him. Her head throbbed with a renewed ferocity as she tried to figure out why he had not known who she was immediately.

"Uh sir, -Snape – Professor Snape…" she stammered, attempting to sit up and realizing she was clearly bound by some sort of hex. Her limbs felt locked into place as she craned her head trying to make out her surroundings. She was in some sort of small library, lying on what felt like a window seat. To her above right, a large circular window streamed sunlight into her still-adjusting eyes. In the background to her left, behind the wand and the angry figure holding it, she could vaguely make out a large mahogany bookcase filled with texts. Her perusal of her surroundings was cut short by another jab towards her, this one dangerously close to hitting her nose.

"WHO ARE YOU?" Snape demanded, the fury rising in his dark, usually inscrutable, orbs. "And why did you just attempt to break into my private chambers?" he questioned.

 _Of course,_ Hermione wanted to hit herself - and probably would have, had she not been immobile – _of course he had charms protecting his private chambers. She was an idiot of the first-order._ She gritted her teeth, steeling herself to respond to him in an at least semi-coherent manner this time around.

"I am Hermione Granger, who else do I look like? And I am here to save your life."


	2. Revelations

She wasn't sure how she thought Snape would react, but it was definitely not like this. He continued to stare at her coldly, not moving the wand a single inch. Finally, he spoke.

"You are most definitely not Miss Granger, whom I just passed in the hallway as I rushed back to my chambers. I will ask one final time before I cause you unbearable pain: Who are you?" he ground out, his voice dripping with the most venom that she had ever heard it possess.

_Shit. Of course he doesn't believe me, traditional time turners go back at most five hours without harm. Okay okay new plan,_ she thought to herself.

"Ask me something." she said, meeting his eyes resolutely.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, thrown off by her odd request.

"If you do not believe I am Hermione, feel free to ask any question that you require to ascertain my identity. Or perhaps I will just start telling you about how you taught me potions until year 5, Defense Against the Dark Arts in year 6, and then became Headmaster Snape in what would have been my 7th year had I not been on the run." she said back, rushing through her words in an effort to convince him before she was embarrassingly hexed.

His face registered absolute astonishment – or as much as he would allow it to, before his hard expression once again schooled itself, his eyes narrowing into little slits. "Am I supposed to believe that I become headmaster next year?" he asked her in a convincing attempt to feign no knowledge of the events to come. But his posture relaxed slightly and Hermione noted that she had been given the implicit opportunity to explain herself more before he decided to inflict bodily harm.

"Sir, I have been sent back at Dumbledore's request. The war is over in my time, and we have triumphed," she started – stressing the _**we**_ so that he would understand that he was included in this triumph. She needed to make it absolutely clear that she had no doubts as to where his loyalties lay – "but we have triumphed at a great cost of life. Dumbledore possessed one remaining time turner – of unknown capabilities – and he chose to use it to save you." she finished courageously, omitting the part where she once again had been asked to do something for Dumbledore with little direction or clarity about why.

"Is Dumbledore alive in your time?" he asked cautiously, his eyes still narrowed and the wand still pointed in her direction, though his hand had lowered considerably as she spoke.

"Goodness no," she responded, "You killed him. But his portrait still has a penchant for ordering us about."

"So you believe me to kill Dumbledore in the future and yet you are still here?" Snape questioned, his eyes unreadable.

"Yes. Like I said, I am here to save you. You died in the final battle at Voldemort's hand. Apparently Dumbledore believes you to be worth saving after the 'tremendous service you have done for the Order' or something of the sort," Hermione explained, hoping he would finally understand.

"You idiot." His voice rose slightly as comprehension dawned upon him. He looked her up and down, finally realizing that she was indeed simply an older version of Hermione and not a Polyjuice-lookalike of the current one. His eyes raked over her, finally settling back at her warm brown eyes as he cast a counterhex, freeing her from the invisible ropes that had bound her.

As she sat up, adjusting to moving her arms and legs once more, she noticed the lack of time turner around her neck. She looked up at him questioningly, and he nodded in the direction of the small table resting a few feet away. Glittering glass shards decorated the table and she felt a sudden sinking feeling as she realized the irrevocability of what she had done.

"Yes, you idiot. Your attempts to get into my chambers resulted in your time turner smashing into bits. I tried repairing it but clearly, I was unable." he said, his tone frosty. "I suppose you will just have to go to France or something for a couple years until the war blows over." He added, his brow furrowed as he tried to figure out where the girl could possibly go.

"Wait, what?" she asked, but he continued hypothesizing, paying her no mind. "-or maybe Denmark? The Danes can be discreet. Maybe Muggle Australia?"

Hermione winced at that one; _God only knows where my parents are,_ she thought, trying not to dwell on those prospects until she had completed her current mission.

"Professor, did you not understand me? **I am here to save you.** Dumbledore specifically requested – " she attempted to say before she was rudely cut off.

" – I understand, Miss Granger, that Dumbledore found me to be worth saving. I am flattered – " he sounded anything but flattered as he drawled on, " – but I am afraid that I cannot be saved. My fate has long been decided." He said staring into her eyes with an expression of finality.

"I am not going to Australia." she said, highly annoyed at the suggestion. "I did not pledge another year and a half of service to the Order to go lie on a beach, drink Coke, and surf." Snape's brow crinkled a bit at her words – no doubt trying to figure out what Coke was – but she continued on, not pausing for breath. "I came here to save you and Hermione Granger does not fail at the tasks that she is given. You will be saved."

His lips curled into a sneer at that, "Well well, aren't you ever the _valiant_ Gryffindor. You do understand that even if I _wanted_ to be saved – you cannot save me. There is no future for me after the war save for Azkaban. I would rather die a thousand deaths at Voldemort's hand rather than be subject to Dementors' kisses for all eternity."

"I assume I am here in part to bear witness," Hermione interjected.

"To bear witness?" Snape seemed momentarily caught off guard.

"Yes, to bear witness. No one, except you and Dumbledore, knows that you are a double agent for the Order. And since obviously you intend to kill Dumbledore, someone else has to know that you are a double agent. Sir – the Death Eaters will be facing trial after the war, as I am sure you assumed. I am here to begin your defense." Hermione replied.

"My defense?" He laughed at that, a piercingly hollow laugh that shook Hermione down to her core. "What is there to defend, Miss Granger? I willingly joined the Death Eaters. I relished the thought of power, of fame, of fortune. And I led innocent people to their death. What I have done is indefensible." He concluded, his shadowed eyes beginning to cloud with memories as he shuddered almost imperceptibly.

"Regardless –" he continued "— I do not wish to be saved. I would recommend you take leave of me and head to some godforsaken Muggle land to wait out the rest of this war." He concluded.

"Your recommendation has been noted." Hermione responded, defiantly crossing her legs and planting herself more firmly on the window seat. She took the opportunity to look around a bit more, realizing that she was inside Snape's quarters. She registered a faint scent of wood and spice as she scanned the room, marveling at the regal assortment of furniture Snape possessed. Clearly Dumbledore kept him well-compensated for his efforts – red and green Afghan rugs, ornate light fixtures, polished wood tables – the space was simply breathtaking. The mahogany bookcase to her right contained hundreds of leather-bound books, many with gold-leaf spines. To her left, two shuttered doors enticed her with what lay beyond them.

Snape's left eyebrow arched gracefully – "Let me clarify my recommendation – I **insist** that you take leave of me. Think of it more as an order, if you will."

Hermione bit her lip, about to retort scathingly, when the sound of bells clanging in the distance cut through the discussion.

Snape looked at her, and then back at the entrance to his chambers, before hissing, "Stay here. Do not move an inch. You cannot be seen under any circumstances." as he swept out of the room and out the door.

* * *

Hermione assumed he had a Defense Against the Dark Arts class to teach – and of course, it would have looked highly suspicious had he been absent – so she busied herself in the meantime by inspecting the texts on the bookshelf.

He had nearly every book imaginable in his possession – everything from books on defensive spells to books on the history of magic. Hermione was quite simply entranced by the multitudes of volumes in front of her. Feeling a little giddy with excitement, a small red book on the bottom shelf caught her eye. _**Unforgivable Potions.** How can potions be unforgivable? _ she wondered, as she bent to pull the book from the shelf. Dusting off the back of the book, she realized that it was actually a guide on potion _cures_ for unforgivable curses and other milder hexes and jinxes.

Hours later, she had finished learning the cocktail of potions used to cure, or at least alleviate symptoms of, hundreds of dark magic curses – everything from the Bat-Bogey Hex to the Cruciatus Curse. She finished the last page of the book just as the sun went down, glancing out the window and realizing that – _naturally, she was in the dungeons_ – it was magically charmed to let in whatever sunlight was above ground. As she was faced with the spectacular view of absolutely nothing, her stomach grumbled, reminding her that it was dinnertime.

"Winky?" she whispered, hoping that the house elf would answer her. A small pop sounded before her, Winky appearing with her head bowed.

"Mister Snape, what can Winky do for you?" she asked, raising her head slightly. Her large eyes widened as she took in the girl before her. "But you is not Mister Snape? Miss Granger? What is you doing in Mister Snape's quarters?"

"Winky, I need you to trust me - and not ask questions. It is of the utmost importance that no one except you and Mister Snape know that I am here," Hermione urged.

"But of course, forgive Winky for questioning you, Miss Granger," Winky bowed slightly, "What can Winky fetch you?"

"Some leftovers from the Great Hall would more than suffice," Hermione replied gratefully. Just as Winky was about to pop away to do her bidding, she added – "Does Mister Snape usually not come back to his chambers at night?" _It had to be at least 7 or 8 o'clock at night – his teaching obligations would have ended hours ago,_ Hermione wondered to herself.

Winky hesitated, before saying, "Mister Snape is a very busy man. He sometimes returns very late at night."

"Oh okay thank you, that will be all, Winky," Hermione quickly replied, not wanting to distress the house elf who was clearly devoted to keeping the secrets of those she served. Winky popped off, assuring Hermione that she would reappear in a moment.

Winky returned shortly with a sumptuous meal of various items from the Great Hall and Hermione found herself absolutely stuffed at the end of her dinner. Yawning to herself, she sat back on the window seat once more, thinking about the mission she had been sent on. She soon found herself falling into a food-lulled sleep as she comfortably reclined on Snape's soft pillows.

o-o-o-o-o

She awoke with a start, hearing noises outside the main door to Snape's chamber. She glanced at the ornate clock on the bookshelf – it read 1:30am. _Who on earth is puttering around at this hour?_ she thought. _I wonder if –_

Her thoughts were interrupted by the door flying open, revealing the clearly injured form of Severus Snape. He staggered forward, his normally pale face having taken on an even more indescribable pallor. His dark robes seemed drenched in some sort of liquid, sticking to him thickly. As he collapsed onto the beige rug in front of him, red seeped into the wool and Hermione gasped, her hands flying up to cover her mouth in abject shock.


	3. The Life of a Death Eater

She must have gasped quite loudly, because Snape raised his head from the rug at that moment, staring at her weakly.

"Oh Granger, I forgot you were…" he trailed off as a spasm wracked his body, his entire body going rigid before beginning to uncontrollably tremble.

Hermione, finally shaking herself out of her sleepy and shocked state, ran to his side, "Sir, sir, what can I do for you?" she looked around the room wildly, hoping an answer would come to her. Her eyes rested on the small red book that she had placed down on the coffee table.

"What happened to you?" she questioned brusquely, attempting to hide her queasiness at the situation. She had never been completely immune to witnessing suffering and this moment was no different. Her stomach threatened to expel her meal from hours before as she waited anxiously for Snape's response.

"Cruciatus," he said between gritted teeth as a smaller spasm ran through his body upon conclusion of the previous one.

"But the blood?" she asked questioningly.

"Mostly not mine," he responded tersely.

"Mostly? What part is yours?" she pressed.

"Top right shoulder and upper arm." he replied as she rapidly moved to rip his robes open to reveal the area in question. Blanching for a moment at the amount of blood present, she pulled out her wand, beginning to sing _Vulnera Sanentur_ over and over. Due to the aftershocks of the Cruciatus curse, however, she found him unable to remain still long enough for her to heal the long gash across his shoulder, which extended down the upper portion of his arm.

She left him momentarily on the carpet, running to one of the doors on the right side of his chamber, praying that it would open to his potion room. Luck was on her side, and the door swung open to reveal a large stone room with a giant cauldron in the middle and shelves of potions on either side. She frantically began searching the shelves, sighing in relief when she encountered a bottle of Sleeping Draught. She returned to the carpet where Snape lay heavily struggling for breath, his skin cold and clammy to the touch. She tipped the bottle to his mouth, willing the draught to slide down his throat. Almost instantly, he began to relax, soon drifting off into a deep state of sleep.

She grabbed the small red book with potion-related cures, turning to the page concerning the Crutiatus Curse as she continued murmuring the incantation to heal the gash on his shoulder. _Vulnera Sanentur Vulnera Sanentur Vulnera Sanentur,_ she sang repeatedly until the gash had closed to her level of satisfaction. She then turned her attention to the small book, mentally putting together a list of potions that she needed to ensure the Crutiatus aftershocks would have subsided by the time he awoke. _Who knew I would have needed this book this soon,_ she thought to herself, as she returned to his potion room to get a selection of muscle relaxers and pain remedies.

She selected a series of shimmery purple, honey-colored, and green liquids, as laid forth in the book, and returned to Snape's side to administer the potions. She tipped each one down his throat, hoping that they were reaching his bloodstream.

In his current state of peace, she finally had a chance to regard him. His face, having finally regained a modicum of color, may not have been traditionally handsome, but it cut a striking appearance. _He has a dangerous sort of appeal,_ she thought. She paused her scrutiny of him to contemplate what to do with his prone body lying in the entranceway. She did not want to risk moving him in this state, even with the assistance of magic, so she busied herself making the rug as comfortable as possible. She grabbed a series of pillows from the window seat – not wanting to intrude upon his bedroom without his explicit permission – and propped his head gently under them. She took another rug from the floor as well, transfiguring it into a wool blanket so that he would remain warm.

Standing up, pleased with her handiwork, she decided to return to the window seat to sleep so that she would be able to assist him if he awoke at night. Too tired to transfigure herself a blanket or grab another pillow, she fell asleep almost instantly on the window seat. She slept restlessly, dreaming of Snape and his harshness during her student days. The striking dichotomy between the injured body on the rug and the usually stoic, cruel potions master had been almost too much for her brain to handle and it attempted to reconcile her swirling thoughts as she slept.

o-o-o-o-o

She slept for hours, waking at about midday given the stress from the night before. When she awoke, she was surprised to find Snape already gone, the rug spotless and pillows neatly stacked on a nearby chair. _It's practically as if absolutely nothing happened last night,_ she thought.

Almost as if he had realized she had awoken, the door to his chambers opened and he swept in with a curt nod in her direction. He promptly went towards the stores of potions in the side room, taking a couple before moving to depart once more.

"Uh, sir?" Hermione questioned hesitatingly. He paused his departure, turning to face her.

"Yes?" he asked, his expression unreadable.

"Uh – " Hermione had a million questions for him suddenly and had no idea where to begin "- are you well?" she asked finally.

"I am well. Unfortunately, I am quite busy today, but I will return for supper if you would like to speak further then. However, my suggestion to take your departure for the duration of the war still remains. If you are not here when I return tonight, I will assume you have wisely heeded my instructions," he responded, his expression a mask of indifference. As he turned to leave once more, he added, as an afterthought, "I am sorry you had to see that last night."

Despite the surprising apology, Hermione was anything but placated. "That's it? You are sorry I had to see that?!" she said, her voice taking on a shrill note as she continued, finally voicing her fears from the previous night: "I was terrified."

"Please calm yourself Miss Granger – it is not an altogether uncommon occurrence. I am a Death Eater, did you think Voldemort baked us cakes each time he summoned us?" he asked rhetorically. "Might I remind you that you brought this on yourself by choosing to return to this time and place."

_Of all the infuriating things he could have said –_ Hermione thought before realizing that he was still speaking - "Usually Winky attends to my wounds," he continued, "but I suppose you were a fine alternative."

_Only he could make the word **fine** sound like a synonym for terrible,_ she thought, her frustration growing. However, before she could voice any of her frustrations, he turned with a swish of his robes and departed his chambers.

Hermione was left alone, once again, as she waited for him to return. _I suppose there are worse things,_ she thought, pulling a book from the bookshelf and settling herself on the much overused window seat once more.


	4. A Change of Pace

When Snape returned, the sunlight was just beginning to dim, casting his chambers in a soft glow. The glow in the room appeared to match his suddenly warm disposition – _or as warm as Snape could get,_ she thought ruefully as he poured them each a glass of firewhiskey.

"I see you are still here, Granger," he said, his mouth quirking upwards as if he was amused at her tenacity. He took a seat across from her on the window seat, handing her drink to her. The waning light reflected off his dark orbs as they scanned her appraisingly and she was suddenly struck by the intimacy of their position opposite one another.

She quickly took a sip of her drink, needing the liquid courage to get through their upcoming conversation. The alcohol curled low in her belly, warming her from the inside out. They both stared at each other a moment before Snape finally broke the silence.

"Are you planning on staying?" he asked, his voice holding no trace of the animosity it had previously.

_I assume he has simply resigned himself to my presence,_ Hermione thought, smiling before she could help herself. "Yes, sir. I am. I imagine we will need to figure out living arrangements before I begin my plans for your defense and start hypothesizing ways to save your life."

He looked at her severely, cutting off her blind optimism swiftly, "Miss Granger, you are welcome to stay until the war is over. However, I have made it perfectly clear that I do not plan on surviving the war and you will need to agree to those terms before I allow you to stay."

Hermione was momentarily stunned, quickly recovering and nodding her acquiescence to his demands as she gulped down more of her drink. _Of course he does not see a future for himself, **yet**. He will come around, _ she thought. _In the meantime, it is probably best to agree with whatever conditions he sets forth. ___

"Professor Snape, it is clear that I blindly took on this mission without understanding your wishes. Now that I have understood them, and my time turner is regretfully in pieces, we will simply have to make do," she said sweetly.

He looked at her shrewdly, as if not believing that she had capitulated so easily before replying, "I am pleased we are on the same page, Miss Granger."

She nodded cursorily, eager to reassure him without overdoing it.

"More firewhiskey?" he asked, tilting his chin in the direction of the empty glass she held. _Oh god do I seem like an alcoholic,_ she wondered, _I just needed something to relax my nerves._

"I am alright for now… perhaps you can show me where I will be sleeping?" she asked hesitatingly, grabbing the brown satchel that she had brought with her.

He nodded acquiescence, standing up and gesturing to the one door she had yet to open. She followed him into the room, marveling at the size of it. The room contained a large bed, black cabinets, and another two doors. "There is a small guest bedroom through the leftmost door, the right door connects to the shared bathroom. You have a door inside your room as well that connects to the bathroom." _Oh, we'll be sharing a bathroom,_ she cringed inwardly at the possible awkwardness. _Are we going to be flatmates for an entire year and half? What was Dumbledore possibly thinking? Maybe Snape figured she would get sick of him in a few days and move to Australia…. this was quite frankly completely absurd._

He continued leading her through the door on the left, gesturing to what would be her room for the foreseeable future. It was small, but cozy and well furnished. The furnishings were, _well, highly black and funeral-y,_ she thought, already picturing what she would do with the space. _Some rose and lavender hues would brighten the place up dramatically._

"Would you like some supper? It is getting late." Snape's voice cut through her interior decorating plans.

"Yes, supper sounds good," she responded, following him out of the bedrooms and back into the main room. He paused to transfigure a side table into a dining table, and accio-ed a couple chairs from the library sitting area. _Who doesn't having a dining table?_ Hermione wondered as she took a seat at the ersatz dining table, feeling utterly out of her element as Snape summoned Winky.

A pop sounded and Winky appeared before the two of them. "Mister Snape, what can Winky do for you?" "Oh Miss Granger – good evening also, Miss," she added upon noticing Hermione at the table as well. "Is Winky not just seeing Miss Granger in the Great Hall?" Winky questioned, looking perplexed as she turned to Snape and then turned back to Hermione.

"I am sure you did," Snape replied, quickly carrying on before Winky had further questions – "We would greatly appreciate a selection of items from the Great Hall supper."

"But of course, Mister Snape," Winky popped away immediately to do his bidding.

Hermione was left in silence with Snape once more, unsure what to do with herself or what to say. "Could I take you up on your offer for another firewhiskey now?" she asked before she could stop herself.

He raised another maddening eyebrow at her while she internally kicked herself at what she sounded like. _Where was Winky with the food, surely she was much quicker the night before?_ she thought, praying for her speedy return with dinner. Snape obligingly fetched her another glass of firewhiskey, this time filling it noticeably higher than the previous time. She could have sworn she saw him smirk as he placed it down in front of her.

"I hope that will be sufficient, Miss Granger," he drawled. _Damn it, he was definitely laughing at her._ Thankfully, Winky reappeared at that moment carrying a large silver platter full of plates teeming with various foods. They both dug in to their plates voraciously, perhaps simply at an attempt to avoid conversation. _Surely we must have **something** in common to talk about – we're both war heroes for Heaven's sake._

"You have quite the selection of books," Hermione found herself saying, grateful that at least she had not opened her mouth to ask for another drink.

"I have spent years putting together my collection," Snape said with a note of pride ringing in his voice. He continued, "What did you read today?"

" _The Care & Keeping of House-elves,_" she responded, blushing slightly at the obvious choice.

"I should have expected no differently," he said, "I am surprised you allowed Winky to fetch us supper. I half expected you to offer to go to the kitchens yourself to acquire the food."

"I assume a floating platter of food making its way to the dungeons would have attracted a bit of attention," Hermione replied with a touch of cheek, secretly pleased by the civil conversation they were having.

The conversation continued along the lines of the rights of house-elves for a while before turning towards other works of literature that they both had read. Hermione was thoroughly enjoying herself, finally having met an intellectual equal with whom she could converse on every topic imaginable. More than Snape just being well read, he also possessed a strong sense of justice, which Hermione could sense during their debate on the morality of recruiting Muggles into the magical world. _How does someone with a moral compass end up a Death Eater?_ she pondered. Her short amount of time with Snape had already left her with several questions and very little answers to his looming predicament.

Soon, dinner concluded and they both went to their respective rooms, bidding each other goodnight. Hermione unpacked the clothing and toiletries that she had brought along in her seemingly bottomless satchel, putting on a pair of mauve silk pajamas and brushing her teeth. She spent a few minutes decorating the room to her satisfaction with a few swishes of her wand before eagerly climbing into the softest bed she had felt in a while. She slept soundly and dreamlessly that night.


	5. Freedom

The days turned into weeks and Hermione found herself enjoying each and every day that she spent living in Snape's quarters. He was usually teaching during the day, leaving her free to cautiously wander the castle and frolic – under the invisibility cloak, of course - in the falling orange and yellow leaves on the castle grounds. For the first time in a long while, Hermione felt truly free. It was a false sense of optimism, she supposed, as the war may have been over in her time but it was still well and truly raging at the present. Nevertheless, she looked forward to each day that she could read one of Snape's many books under a large oak tree and meet him for dinner each night. His frequent absences from the Great Hall largely went unnoticed and she relished the time that they spent together in the evenings debating various academic pursuits.

Under the assumption that she had dropped all attempts to save him, Snape was remarkably open with her, sharing details from his day and various encounters with other Death Eaters and Voldemort. Each night, after they would retire to their respective rooms, she would pull out a brown leather journal and record the events of the day, focusing on anything Snape told her that might prove to be important. Hermione found herself appreciating this exercise in patience as she was convinced it was honing skills, and parts of her brain, that she had yet to fully develop. Admittedly, she also felt a bit flattered that Snape had begun to trust her with the details of his life.

Occasionally, depending on his teaching schedule, he would also return to his chambers midday for lunch. Their lunches seemed a bit more intimate to Hermione, likely because they were spontaneous and seemed like he actually _wanted_ to eat with her - as opposed to their increasingly perfunctory dinners. She tried to be around for the days that she thought he would return midday, but she had also adopted a curiosity about the life of current Hermione. She loved skulking through the castle and seeing her younger self – it was not only a surreal experience but was also giving her perspective.

She found it highly amusing to think about how **_obsessed_** she was with Ron a couple years ago. _God that shock of red hair and boyish personality, how did I ever have a crush on him, _she thought to herself. They had kissed, but it had been bumbly and awkward and, if she was being honest, rather unpleasurable. Of course, Ronald had a nice face and they had been friends for ages. But it seemed that her crush had grown out of a long familiarity rather than a deep compatibility. She laughed whenever she saw young Hermione in the castle looking frustrated and upset, no doubt due to her as yet unrequited infatuation with the redhead.__

One such day, as she wandered through the castle early in the morning under the guise of the invisibility cloak, she spotted Malfoy sneaking up an offbeat staircase. Curious, and also with the hope of adding to her store of evidence in Snape's defense, she hurried to the base of the staircase to follow the boy. However, just as she was about to reach the staircase, she was bumped into from the side, knocked to the floor as the invisibility cloak slipped off of her. She quickly regained her footing, standing up to face a very apologetic Professor McGonagall.

"My apologies Miss Granger," she said, as she peered around the floor, appearing to be searching for something.

Hermione, momentarily stunned and worried she had completely blown her cover, noticed the professor's spectacles a few feet away from them. _Thank god,_ she thought. Evidently the professor had not picked up on the subtle differences of two years without her spectacles. She quickly hurried to pick them up and return them to Professor McGonagall, rapidly turning away from her with a mumbled "The fault is all mine." She sprinted down the hallway, invisibility cloak in hand, before the professor had time to even put on her spectacles.

Hermione turned a corner, pausing to put on the invisibility cloak once more, vowing that she would be more careful in the future. She vaguely remembered an incident her sixth year when Professor McGonagall had seen her in an upper hallway and had remarked, "Did I not just see you downstairs, Miss Granger?" with a confused and piercing look. When current day Hermione had looked equally baffled, she had muttered, "I must be going mad with old age," before walking away.

Hermione actually laughed at the memory, both from relief that Professor McGonagall had not caught on and from the fact that she had accidentally convinced her professor that she was going crazy. _Oops,_ she thought sheepishly. She returned to Snape's chambers for the rest of the day, curling up with highly relevant book on the magical world's justice system.


	6. Love is doing what's right

A few days after the McGonagall incident, clearly having failed to learn from her mistakes, Hermione was once again scurrying through the castle. She had gone out for an early morning walk when the castle was largely deserted, and had inadvertently timed her return at the same time as the mail delivery. She was descending the stairwell to the dungeons when she heard the screeching of various owls, looking back to see a familiar tawny owl approaching her with a letter in its beak. _What, how can he see me?_ she wondered, certain that she was securely under the invisibility cloak. He dropped the letter at her feet before flying away as she suddenly realized that he had probably learned to recognize her smell. _But don't owls have a horrendous sense of smell?_ she thought, recalling something in her Muggle animal books about that. _I suppose magical owls are inherently different; their sense of guidance must operate based on sensing a unique magic trace._

Regardless of how the owl had misdelivered a letter clearly meant for younger Hermione, the fact remained that she now had a letter in her possession that was not technically intended for her. She picked up the letter from the stairwell, looking furtively about to make sure nobody was observing her. Once she had it under the cloak, she had a chance to regard it, recognizing the handwriting of her mother on the outside of the envelope. She was suddenly struck with an overwhelming feeling of longing, turning to continue down the stairwell and to Snape's chambers, the letter clutched firmly in her hand.

* * *

She glanced up at the clock on the bookshelf. _Half past ten, dammit,_ she thought. She had been sitting on the window seat for over three hours debating what to do with the letter. The devil on her shoulder was telling her that it was highly implausible to get it to young Hermione without risking detection.

"Open it," the devil whispered, "You know you want to."

The moral side of Hermione, however, was struggling with the implications of opening correspondence not intended for her.

"It **was** intended for you, does it not say 'Hermione Granger'?" the devil interjected.

Moral implications aside, there was also the possibility that the letter would be too much to bear. _I have to remain focused on my mission,_ Hermione thought. _There is no room for nostalgia in war._ She cut off the devil before he had a chance to respond about how the war was over – _I am in this time period at the present and this time period is at war. We are at war, no matter how much I wish to believe it is all over._

She collapsed backwards dramatically onto a pillow, covering her face with her hands and groaning as she continued pondering her decision.

~o-o-o-o-o~

Two hours later, Hermione Granger was unequivocally drunk, nursing Snape's bottle of firewhiskey in her hands. _Why did I read the damn letter?_ she lamented.

" _I love you Hermione, I miss you Hermione,_ " she mocked, her heart twisting in pain. " _Dad sends his love too – he hopes you are still studying hard and staying out of trouble._ " She drunkenly swayed, falling off the window seat and on to the floor as she promptly broke out into sobs, still hugging the bottle of alcohol.

A half hour later, she heard the faint sound of the front door creaking open. _Of course Snape had chosen today of all days to return to his chambers for lunch,_ Hermione thought. She was still on the floor, too nauseous to move and still crying lightly. _God I'm such a disaster right now, he is going to hate me, why did I come back, I am the worst person and worst daughter ever,_ her thoughts started spinning out of control as the intensity of her nausea and sobs picked up.

"Miss Granger?" Snape's concerned voice cut sharply through the fog of her rapidly disintegrating thoughts. "Oh, Hermione, what happened?" he asked, swiftly coming over to her side on the floor. She continued sobbing, curled into a tight ball. When she finally raised her tear-stained face to look at him, she saw how out of his element he looked crouched next to her helplessly.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, just please leave me," she said, hating the thought that she made him uncomfortable. He regarded her, completely unsure what to do with the distraught girl before him.

"Hermione, what happened?" he asked again, gently prying the bottle of firewhiskey out of her arms.

"I jus – I jussssst – wanted something to hug. To love," she responded, reaching for the bottle again, but quickly giving up when he moved the bottle out of reach once more.

"What?" he asked, completely bewildered.

"You know what I miss the most?" she continued, "Their hugs. Nobody hugs quite like my mum and dad. And now they are somewhere in goddamn Australia probably adopting kangaroos and dodging tarantulas."

"Miss Granger, I am going to need you to be more clear if I am to understand what is happening," Snape said sternly.

"MY PARENTS," she almost screamed at him, "I obliviated them and sent them to Australia so that they would be safe from that evil monster and now they are gone, disappeared into the wind, with different identities. They have no idea I exist." She thrust the letter at him that she had received today. "And then this owl has to go and bring me a letter."

Snape took the letter from her, noting the date on it and realizing that evidently the wrong Hermione had received it.

"I just want to hug them one last time," she said brokenly, dissolving into renewed sobs.

Snape stared a moment, before finally placing a hand reassuringly on her back and rubbing gently in circles. He lightly squeezed her towards him before letting go to put a finger under her chin and raise her tear-stained face up to meet his eyes.

"You did the right thing. I know it is hard right now. But you did the right thing," he said firmly.

She stared up at him, her watery brown eyes searching for confirmation that he was telling the truth.

"Okay," she said finally.

Snape looked noticeably relieved.

"Come, let's get you up," he said, standing up and pulling her up by the arms. The minute Hermione stood up, she was struck again with a strong wave of dizziness. She fell against Snape who was unexpectedly knocked backwards such that they both ended up on the window seat – Hermione partially sprawled over his lap. He straightened himself to a seated position, as did she. The lightheadedness overwhelming her, she clutched his robes for stability and rested her head against his shoulder. She stayed in that position, sobbing quietly as she felt waves of nausea threatening her but she also could not fathom moving to the bathroom in her current state of dizziness.

He was momentarily alarmed at the crying girl sniffling against his robes, but he quickly recovered and placed his arms around her, murmuring reassuring things as she waited out the bout of dizziness and crying. They stayed like that for a while, Snape's arms tightly around her until she drifted asleep from sheer exhaustion.


	7. Dumbledore's Discovery

When Hermione awoke that morning, tucked into her own warm bed, she knew two things for certain: 1) this was the worst hangover she had _**ever**_ had and 2) she was a little bit in awe of Severus Snape. _Not just in awe, you definitely fancy him,_ her inner voice piped up. She squashed down her inner voice, settling for describing her feelings towards him as a much more acceptable form of hero worship. _Plus he's literally a war hero, so it's fitting,_ she resolved.

She licked her lips unconsciously as images of him holding her last night rose unbidden into her thoughts. _His arms were so strong and they felt so safe,_ she thought before mentally chastising herself for sounding like a schoolgirl with her first crush.

However, regardless of how his arms had felt, there was also the ever-present fact that she had thoroughly embarrassed herself. Her head pounded viscously as if on cue, reminding her that she would definitely be paying a price for her behavior the previous day. As she swung her legs over the edge of the bed to stand up, her stomach did a sudden turn and she found herself rushing to the bathroom to heave into the toilet. _Well I can't say I don't deserve this,_ she thought as she tied her hair back, knowing that she had acted childishly in turning to alcohol to dull her sadness. _Of course it amplified it, even a second year would know that._

As she puked into the toilet once more, she pictured Snape's angular and disappointed face, which would soon grace her with its presence if not at midday, then most definitely at suppertime. His sharp eyes, which had originally held a muted regard for her, would most definitely be judging her when he returned. _Ugh I miss the perfectionist, put-together Hermione which the war destroyed,_ she mourned. There was no doubt that postwar Hermione was more emotional and hedonistic than prewar Hermione – the war had changed everyone who had managed to survive. In Hermione's case, she had developed a strong urge to live more in the moment, as she had witnessed firsthand how life could be yanked away from someone in an instant. She had watched the life drain out of the eyes of countless people as she was forced to remain strong in the interest of winning the war. _And Snape was no exception,_ she thought.

Thus was born her newfound pursuit of more pleasures in life. Although she only had a short while to enjoy the postwar world – three days to be precise – she had irrevocably changed in those days. However, her new desire to live in the moment also happened to equate with being an irresponsible, emotional wreck in this case, and she deeply regretted ever opening the letter from her parents.

She felt her stomach settling a bit as she sat on the bathroom floor, deciding to risk standing up and returning to bed. She crawled back into her warm bed sheets, still dressed in her clothes from the previous day. She realized that Snape had likely carried her to bed the previous night – a thought that made her feel rather, well, she couldn't quite put her finger on the feeling. _Maybe comforted?_ she wondered, acknowledging that she had been feeling rather alone and lost without her parents. She drifted off to sleep again, determining that it was probably wise to sleep off the hangover.

~o-o-o-o-o~

When she awoke a few hours later, she noticed some orange juice and toast on her bedside table. _Ah, Snape did come by for lunch?_ she surmised. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that it had been hours since she had consumed anything other than alcohol. She sat up in bed and gratefully reached for the toast, chewing it as she took a sip of the orange juice.

She regretted having missed him earlier, as she had wanted to reassure him that she was wholly embarrassed and very much not an alcoholic. _Oh well, there's always dinner to awkwardly try to make amends,_ she presumed. _I should start coming up with a plan for actually saving his life rather than just taking notes for his defense. After all, what use are these notes if he is dead?_ she mused.

She got out of bed once more, stretching and changing into comfortable sweats. She went out into the main room and over to the bookshelf, looking for a large print book – large print due to the lingering headache – on spells and potions for life-threatening injuries. She found a big blue book entitled _**Emergency Magical Medicine**_ that seemed appropriate for her current task. She opened it and began skimming it, but found that her headache was returning with a vengeance so she placed it back on the bookshelf to read the next day.

She decided instead to practice her potion-making skills, figuring they would come in handy in the near future. Strolling over to the room housing the cauldron, she opened the door and scanned the shelves to see what Snape had in stock. _These will work nicely; I can brew a number of advanced potions with these ingredients._

She set to work brewing a number of potions that Snape would find useful as well – everything from Felix Felicis to Calming Draught.

* * *

Hours later, she stepped back from the cauldron in satisfaction, certain that she had made the best Calming Draught of her life. If she was ever hysterical again in the wrong situation, a little sip of this pure, bubbly liquid was sure to help her focus on the mission at hand. She worked on bottling her last potion of the night, noting that it must be rather late.

When she emerged from the cauldron room, she checked the clock in the main room. It read a quarter past nine. _Hmm I suppose I will wait for Snape before having dinner, he should be back shortly,_ she surmised. She grabbed **_Emergency Magical Medicine_** and took a seat on the window seat.

She was deeply engrossed in the book an hour later when Winky suddenly appeared in far corner of the room with a pop.

"Miss Granger, Miss Granger," she whispered, looking around the room for her. Spying her on the window seat, she hurried over and looked at her with wide eyes.

"Miss, you is needing to go to the Hogwarts disapparition point immediately," she urged. Hermione put her book down and looked at her worriedly.

"Why? Winky, what is the matter?" she asked.

"Mister Snape, he is needing you. I is coming to tell you, Miss!" the house-elf responded with a sense of desperation.

Hermione quickly rose up from the window seat, hurrying to her room to grab her invisibility cloak and wand with a "Thank you, Winky, I will go immediately."

_God, does he always have to go and get injured on the days I choose to read about healing?_ she wondered as she hurried out of his chambers and through the castle. _It's almost as if Voldemort knows he can do whatever he wants to him because I'm here to heal him._ She reached the entrance to the castle, sneaking out with a wave of her wand and dashing through the grounds to the disapparition point.

The wet grass squelched under her boots as she ran to the edge of the castle's grounds, scanning the darkness for a sign of Snape. Unable to see him, she pulled out her wand and chanted, " _Lumos._ " The tip of her wand lit up, illuminating the immediate vicinity and she finally spied a huddled figure a few yards ahead of her.

She ran over to the dark figure, hearing the faint sound of labored breathing as she drew near. The white of Snape's face shone brightly in the light, his eyelids fluttering as he gasped for breath.

"Sir, Professor Snape, can you hear me?" Hermione questioned as she pressed his cheek gently to turn his face towards her. His body lay in a crumpled heap on the ground as he continued to breath laboriously, not saying a word. Hermione looked helplessly at the mass of black robes surrounding him, unsure where to begin checking for injuries. She put her hand to his forehead, worried when she felt how cold his skin seemed.

_What do I do?_ she wondered frantically. _I can't disapparate to a nearby hospital with him without possibly alerting Voldemort or the Death Eaters._

Suddenly, a small groan came from his lips and Hermione leaned closer to hear what he was saying.

"Sir, sir, where are you hurt? What can I do?" she asked hurriedly.

"Water," he managed to croak out faintly, as Hermione hastened to cast the _Aguamenti_ spell and aim her wand in the direction of his mouth. The jet of water streaming out of her wand entered his throat by surprise, causing him to start coughing violently. Hermione quickly attempted to lessen the strength of the water stream pouring from her wand, controlling it with a great deal of concentrated effort. She finally managed to get it down to a gentle trickle, tipping her wand in the direction of his mouth once more.

Snape drank greedily, sucking in liquid for minutes as he lay on the damp grass. Finally, after about five minutes of drinking water continuously, he had regained enough strength to sit up a little. Hermione was internally a complete wreck, her emotions from the previous day mixing together with the current rush of adrenaline, anxiety, and faint tinges of relief as his condition began to improve. _I can't watch him like this,_ she thought to herself as she felt her own insides twisting with pain. _Please be okay, please be okay,_ she silently prayed, looking up at the dark night sky.

"Can we try to stand you up? I am worried about our discovery outside your chambers," Hermione asked after he had been sitting up for a few minutes.

Snape nodded wordlessly, grabbing her arm for support and pulling himself to his feet. He winced as he stood and his step faltered a little, but he seemed to quickly regain balance. Hermione gently placed the invisibility cloak over the two of them and began to slowly lead him up towards the castle. The walk back to his chambers seemed to take forever as he kept pausing to lean against various walls in the castle. At one point, he even moved to collapse, Hermione deftly catching him and supporting him as they took their final few steps down the tunnels of the dungeon. She opened the door to his chambers with a sigh of relief, leading him into his bedroom and assisting him into bed. She quickly ran to the cauldron room, returning to his bedroom to proffer an assortment of healing potions to him. He drank down almost all of what she offered while she busied herself muttering generic healing spells as she had heard Madam Pomfrey do in the past for ailing students.

Hermione had questioned him on the way back to the castle as to what had happened to him, but he had tersely uttered that he did not remember and she decided not to press him further in his current state. She sat on the bed next to him, waiting for the potions to take effect. Among them had been a number of sleeping potions, and she presumed he would drift off to sleep in short order.

Instead, thirty minutes later, he was in a clammy, restless state, mumbling various things in his delirium. He abruptly sat up, a glassy look in his eyes as he reached towards Hermione. She recoiled in surprise, but his hand still came to rest on her cheek and he caressed it gently with his thumb.

"Lily, oh Lily," he whispered reverently. Hermione had no idea what to do, so she let his hand remain on her cheek.

"I love you, Lily," he said achingly, as if saying the words hurt him terribly. _Oh no, maybe I should say something now?_ Hermione wondered.

"Professor – " she cut in, "It's me, Hermione."

He didn't seem to register her words, suddenly slumping backwards as he tossed fitfully on the bed once more. As he writhed on the bed, he keened over and over, "Please forgive me, please forgive me," in a heart-wrenching tone. He soon exhausted himself, falling silent again as he trembled gently. _Maybe he's cold and shivering?_ Hermione mused, running to grab another set of blankets for him.

She tucked a couple more blankets around his trembling form, resolving to stay next to him the entire night. She sat on the other side of the bed at first, soon giving up on any sense of propriety and climbing into bed next to him. His fitfulness had eased and Hermione felt comfortable falling asleep for a little while.

~o-o-o-o-o~

When she awoke, a bedside clock alerted her to the fact that it was half past five in the morning. She turned over to look at Snape in the dim light, surprised to see him completely still and rather pale.

She nudged him lightly, whispering, "Professor, professor," but he failed to respond in the slightest. _Dammit is he unconscious?_ she wondered worriedly. _Clearly the various potions and spells had little effect._ She had previously thought that he had been tortured and lost blood, and she had acted accordingly in the healing process. Now she was at a loss as to what had happened to him, having had little magical medical experience even during wartime.

She pushed him harder this time, but once more, he did not respond in the slightest. Rather than seeming peacefully asleep, his face bore a sickly look and was covered in a sheen of sweat. She leaned her head down to his face and listened to his labored breathing, at the same time feeling his neck for a pulse. When his pulse weakly beat back against her two fingers, Hermione knew something was seriously wrong.

_Okay Plan B,_ she thought resolutely, running to her room and changing into a grey skirt, black sweater, white-collared shirt, and Gryffindor tie. She teased her hair with a brush and added a smattering of black eye shadow under her eyes, rubbing it in to give the impression that she had been studying all night.

She grabbed the invisibility cloak and her wand, running back through Snape's bedroom and telling the unconscious figure, "I'll be back shortly." She ran out of his chambers, covered in the invisibility cloak, just as the clock on the bookshelf struck six. She hurried through the castle, dodging the early risers and various others roaming the staircases at that hour.

Out of breath, she finally paused at the gargoyle outside Dumbledore's office. _Bollocks, what was the password Harry told me in 6th year? Fizzing Whizbees? Sherbet Lemon? Acid Pops?_ She looked around to make sure the coast was clear and took off the invisibility cloak quickly, hoping anyone who passed by would simply mistake her for the younger Hermione.

The gargoyle looked at her expectantly, as she confidently tried, "Fizzing Whizbees." A couple third years passed by and looked at her strangely, giggling to themselves at her random pronouncement.

When the gargoyle failed to allow her entrance, she tried again - less confidently this time – "Sherbet Lemon?" The gargoyle just stared back at her.

"Perhaps Acid Pops?" – this time the gargoyle showed a flicker of approval before a loud creak sounded and he granted her passageway to Dumbledore's office.

Relieved, Hermione rushed up the winding stone staircase and into the ornate circular room. Dumbledore, clearly in the habit of getting an early start to his day, looked up from his desk in surprise.

"Why, Hermione, what are you doing here?" he asked. Hermione simply stared for a minute, delighted to see the headmaster in flesh and blood after over a year. His silver beard, his crinkled eyes, his melodious voice – she paused to drink it all in.

It appeared to suddenly dawn on him that this Hermione was not quite the same that was likely studying in her dormitory at the present. He looked at her inquisitively as he waited for her to speak.

"Headmaster, you sent me from the future – well, your portrait sent me – to rescue Professor Snape. I came to you because he is ill," she managed to say.

Dumbledore's face registered a faint bit of surprise before quickly asking, "Where is he?"

"In his chambers – if you would come with me," she asked, motioning back down the stairwell.

Dumbledore rapidly rose to follow the girl down the stairwell as she slipped under the invisibility cloak. _It will just look like he is walking alone,_ Hermione thought, as she made her way back to Snape's chambers with Dumbledore in tow.

When they arrived at Snape's chambers, Dumbledore speedily went to his bedside with a quick, "Hermione, if you will wait out here."

He took a few minutes inside with Snape's unconscious body while Hermione paced nervously outside in the main room.

By the time Dumbledore emerged from Snape's bedroom, Hermione was beside herself once more, anxious to hear how he was faring. Dumbledore looked grim as he stated, "He has been poisoned – I believe by some sort of woodland creature that lives in the vicinity of where he has been meeting the Death Eaters. It appears we cannot blame this on Voldemort."

"I am sure he was weakened by the Cruciatus before this woodland creature stumbled upon him," Hermione said unforgivingly.

"Have you heard of that Muggle disease – Cholera?" Dumbledore asked. "His symptoms are similar as the venom primarily seems to work by dehydrating its victim."

Hermione nodded as Dumbledore continued, "I will administer Antidote to Uncommon Poisons – I trust there is some in his potions room?" he inquired.

Hermione nodded again, running over to the room to grab the antidote off the shelves.

"When he awakens, be certain to give him plenty of water," Dumbledore advised, heading back into the bedroom to administer the antidote to Snape.

Hermione waited outside once more for Dumbledore to return.

He returned shortly and said, "Thank you for coming to fetch me, Hermione. I imagine that you have been through a lot in the past few years – I am eternally grateful to you for your service. I will see to covering Severus' classes for the day, I imagine he will be much better by evening." With that, Dumbledore turned and strode out of the chambers, leaving Hermione feeling quite bereft in his absence.

Hermione decided to check on Snape first, pleased to hear that his breathing had already improved. Exhausted, she got back into bed next to him and fell asleep.

* * *

She awoke midday, light streaming through a square magical window on the near wall. Wondering what had awakened her, she was suddenly hit in the ear as she turned to face Snape. Far from unconscious now, it appeared that he was back in a state of restlessness, his limbs moving about randomly as he writhed on the bed. _Did the antidote even work?_ Hermione questioned, before remembering that Dumbledore had mentioned it might be evening until he improved. She watched his face contorting in pain as his limbs thrashed about, her heart twisting with sadness and anger for how Snape had been treated by life.

His hand suddenly cracking down on the wooden frame of the bed, Hermione moved to control his limbs with her own body, not wanting him to get hurt further. She quickly straddled his legs and pinned his arms down, holding his limbs down tightly while he continued to attempt to thrash about.

In about ten minutes, he finally settled down once more, drifting off into the most peaceful sleep of his recovery thus far. Hermione noted that his breathing was even and his cheeks were beginning to regain a bit of flush, and she sighed gratefully as she swung herself off him so that she was standing.

She left to the main room, wanting to allow him his rest as she summoned Winky, requesting the largest brunch buffet possible as her stomach growled. _Had I really not eaten since lunch yesterday?_ she thought as she wolfed down three fried eggs in minutes. _If you can even call that orange juice and toast a proper meal..._

After the most satisfying breakfast of her life, she busied herself finishing _**Emergency Magical Medicine**_ for the rest of the afternoon.

She finished the book around four, deciding to do some yoga in the sitting area. She got into Child's Pose, calming her breath and her mind as she tried to forget her worries and fears from the past few days. Just as she was about to go into Downward Dog, she vaguely heard someone croak, "Hermione?"

She dashed to Snape's room, where she saw him awake and alert, attempting to sit up. Relief washed over her in waves as she fought away the tears that were pricking her eyes.

"Ah you are here, do you have water?" he croaked, his throat sounding extremely parched. She nodded, and moved to grab a series of empty bottles from the bedside table and fill them with water from the bathroom sink. When she returned from the bathroom, she observed how much healthier Snape looked as he propped himself up against a couple pillows.

"You're okay, oh my god, thank god you're okay," Hermione said rather incoherently as she sat down on the bed and handed him the first water bottle. She stared at him as he drank, marveling at how much better he looked. Suddenly, before she could help herself, a few tears escaped her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. He looked at her in surprise, putting down the bottle of water.

It was as if those few tears had caused a veritable dam to burst, and soon Hermione was full-out sobbing in relief as she clutched his injured right hand which had hit the bed frame a few hours previously.

"You're okay," she repeated, tracing her thumb across his red, swollen knuckles. "You're okay," she repeated again, regarding his face and looking into his eyes deeply. His eyes registered concern for her, and a little bit of confusion.

"Hermione," he said gently, his voice still cracking due to the lack of water, "I am sorry to have concerned you so greatly."

She cried more at that, grateful to be hearing his calming voice once more.

"I'm sorry," she laughed a bit at the ridiculousness of her behavior, "Please drink more water, I'll just be sitting here crying like a mad fool."

He looked at her, his mouth quirking upwards in amusement, as he reached for a couple bottles of water, downing them within seconds.

She managed to get her resolve under control within a few minutes, smiling at him as he finished the last bottle of water. She took the bottles once more to the bathroom to fill them, returning with them in hand. As she handed the first of the bottles to him once more, an errant tear snaked its way down her right cheek. Snape watched her thoughtfully, brushing his black hair back with his injured hand as he brought his left hand to her cheek, tenderly wiping away the tear that was descending its way down to her chin.

They were close to each other now, their faces mere inches apart as Hermione regarded the striking lines of his face and soft kindness in his dark orbs. She saw him look down at her lips as she licked them self-consciously, his eyes darkening a bit. His breath ghosted along her chin and she felt herself let out a faint whimper as he moved to close the gap between their lips.


	8. Jealousy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading everyone!! So this is my first time uploading on AO3, so I just opted to upload the first 7 chapters right away (I have 14 chapters done so far and am currently in the process of writing more). I'll be uploading a chapter or two a day for at least the next week. Reviews would be very welcome!! 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this chapter!

She closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to descend on hers. When they finally did, she was surprised at the gentleness of his mouth against hers. His lips were soft, but insistent, and she found herself pressing back against mouth with an increasing urgency.

His tongue darted out to brush her lower lip and her resolve crumbled completely. She attacked him with her mouth, pouring all of her worry and fear and relief into that single kiss. He soon responded with a fervor equal to her own, placing the uncapped water bottle down on the bedside table to cup her face with both of his hands.

She moved to sit down on the bed, hoping to improve upon the awkward angle at which they were currently. As she swiveled, her elbow hit the water bottle on the bedside table, knocking it over and sending it crashing to the floor. The loud noise seemed to startle Snape, who abruptly pulled back from her. As water seeped into her socks, Hermione looked at him searchingly, worried as to what he was about to say and inwardly cursing herself for her clumsiness.

His face took on an expression of guilt and she could see the walls going up in his eyes. "Miss Granger – I – I don't know what just came over me," he said, sounding regretful.

_Of course,_ she thought disappointedly, _of course he's going to write this off as an impulsive mistake._

He continued, validating her fears, "This was a mistake… I… I was taken in by the intensity of the situation. I hope… I hope that you will forgive me for overstepping. I have not been well and my brain is clearly not in the right state. If it is alright with you, I am going to take a shower and then rest until I teach tomorrow."

_There were two of us in that kiss!_ she wanted to scream. Instead, she simply nodded, feeling well and truly dismissed. _It's like 5pm, he definitely does not to sleep for that many hours, illness be damned._

She retired to her bedchambers as well, ignoring the fallen bottle that had left a puddle of water on his bedroom floor. _Cursed bottle._ A lump rose in her throat as she replayed how coolly he had dismissed her over and over in her head. For the umpteenth time that day, she felt tears prick her eyes. _Now there are two fucking Hermiones in this castle crying over boys,_ she thought bitterly. If she hadn't been crying, she would've almost laughed at the irony. _This is pathetic, I am Hermione Granger, I do not need a man. Least of all my former professor._

Unfortunately, her brain refused to be comforted by her numerous assertions about how she was an independent woman and she ended up crying herself to sleep.

She woke up the following morning feeling momentarily despondent about the events from the day prior. However, not wanting to dwell on negative things, she moved forward with a renewed enthusiasm for completing her mission. The large bay window to her right glowed a warm orange, reflecting her current mood as she jumped out of bed with vigor.

Perhaps she was overcompensating for her feelings of rejection, but Hermione refused to let a minor setback undermine her entire mission. She pulled out a piece of parchment from the drawer of her bedside table, grabbing a quill as well and dipping it in the small inkwell that rested on top of the table. She set to work making a plan for the next few weeks, listing the numerous things she would need to do and learn in order to guarantee her success.

· Convince Snape to live

· Figure out how to keep hidden until the war is over but also communicate the correct information to Snape to ensure his success

· Learn how to replicate the scenario leading to his death without him actually dying

· Plan his defense

She scrutinized the list, _well, this is not very helpful in the least. The real question is **how** to do these things._ Regardless, she busied herself for the day working out what she would need to know for the third item on her list. _How to deal with immense blood loss, how one could appear dead on cue,_ the list ran on and on.

She picked out a series of titles that dealt with the various subject matters and added to the list in what order she would read them. Then – for the rest of the day – she set to work actually reading them. She supposed dealing with the first issue on the list, convincing Snape to live, could wait for the right moment.

~o-o-o-o-o~

She was pleased at the end of the day – she had been immensely productive and she finally felt like she was on the right track with her mission.

She had even had time to plan out how normally she was going to act when Snape returned for dinner. _I will be so normal and so casual, it will be like the kiss never happened,_ she resolved. She glanced at the clock, noting it was a little before seven and that she would have time for a stroll before he returned for dinner. She grabbed her invisibility cloak, putting it on before leaving the chambers.

She crept through the dungeon's hallways, continuing through to the potions classroom on her path to exit the castle. Normally, her path would be clear this late in the evening, but tonight, as she cautiously opened the backdoor to the potions classroom, she noticed Snape sitting at the desk he formerly occupied as potions master. Ignoring how her heartbeat picked up at the sight of him, she strode confidently into the classroom. She was about to reveal herself to Snape and nonchalantly greet him, when she noticed Daphne Greengrass cleaning cauldrons with a toothbrush. _The vile Slytherin girl,_ she thought, freezing in place as she realized Daphne was completing a detention with Snape. _Might as well just hang out on the floor until it is over,_ she thought, not wanting to risk further movement and thus taking a seat on the cold stones. _Not that I could have moved if I wanted to,_ she thought, as Daphne was very much blocking her path out of the classroom. She waited for several minutes, growing increasingly bored as the platinum blonde girl cleaned cauldron after cauldron painstakingly.

Hermione felt her eyes closing, just as Daphne placed down the toothbrush and moved to approach Snape's desk. Suddenly intrigued, Hermione sat up straighter to see what she would say to him. Her pale face looked determined as she walked over to him, adjusting her robes lower to reveal an ample amount of cleavage. He looked up at her, his face taking on a surprised and perhaps _interested?_ look.

She leaned over the desk, almost nose to nose, _or lip to lip,_ with him, whispering sensuously, "Sir, perhaps we can simply cut short my detention? I am sure there are much better ways we both could spend our time." Snape looked at her inscrutably, his eyes darkening, as she continued boldly, "Perhaps together? I have been hearing _breathtaking_ things about the work you are doing for You-Know-Who. You are exceedingly brave."

She walked around to the other side of the desk, taking a seat on it, inches away from him. _Does he make a habit of sleeping with the Slytherin sixth years?_ Hermione thought bitterly, fighting the gnawing feeling that was taking over her stomach. Snape abruptly stood up, leaning his body into Daphne as his mouth met her left ear, whispering something hotly into it. She pressed herself more firmly against him, trailing a finger down the collar of his robes, "Are you certain? We would have had lots of fun," she said, her voice dripping with seduction as she used her other hand to caress her long blonde locks, twining them around her index finger flirtatiously.

"I am certain, Miss Greengrass," he said, stepping away from her with an air of finality. "But you are free to leave, I am more than capable of cleaning these cauldrons with the help of my wand and your services have been much appreciated."

_Much appreciated? The twat cleaned the fucking cauldrons with a toothbrush; she did literally nothing helpful,_ Hermione seethed to herself as she sat lamely on the floor, waiting for Daphne to take leave of the classroom.

All thoughts of going for a walk gone, she waited for the moment where she could creep back to Snape's chambers and pretend that she had not witnessed the exchange. Her blood was boiling as she watched Daphne leave the classroom, immediately turning to the backdoor to subtly slide it open and return to Snape's chambers. She assumed he would shortly be returning for dinner now that the detention had ended, and so she quickly divested herself of the cloak, grabbed a random book from his bookshelf, and laid down on the window seat to pretend to be engrossed in it.

He followed in around a minute, walking into his chambers with an inscrutable expression on his face. He paused for a moment, his eyes resting on her face, and then on the book she was reading, and then back on her face once more.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him raise an eyebrow and smirk slightly, "So you've been reading _How to Woo Witches_?" he asked.

She was momentarily confused, closing the book to check its cover and noticing that the book did indeed have that title.

"Is there something you wish to tell me?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with mirth, "I will not judge in the least."

Hermione looked angrily at him, not in the mood to be teased.

"Why do you even have the book?" she ground out.

"It was a joke gift, of course," he said smoothly. "However, besides the point, shall we address why you were spying on my detention with Miss Greengrass?"

Hermione slammed the book closed at that, fury running through her eyes and down her body, mixing with the emotions tightening her gut.

"I was not spying," she said hotly as she rose to her feet, "I was merely trying to leave the castle for a walk when I stumbled upon… upon you two and your tryst," she finished.

Snape regarded her for a second, before responding, "It was evidently not a tryst, Miss Granger. Unless that is what you children call detentions nowadays."

Hermione was infuriated at being called a child, belatedly realizing that he was intentionally trying to needle her, "Well, apparently you take no issue with sleeping with actual children. How old is Daphne? 16?" she fired back.

"I believe Miss Greengrass is of a legal age," he said slickly, "But that is no matter as I do not sleep with my students." The last sentence was said firmly and with an edge of finality.

Hermione looked at him with surprise, as she had been certain that he had slept with Daphne in the past – _or at least was entertaining the idea mere minutes ago._ "That is certainly not what it looked like," she replied, "I distinctly remember your lips coming rather close to her ear and her finger trailing down your robes. You mean for me to believe that there is no history there?"

"There is none," he replied resolutely. "Do you have any other questions as to my supposedly unscrupulous nature?"

Hermione was unwilling to believe him, her insides still twisted due to what she had just witnessed.

"Forgive me if I do not take you at your word, but you **are** a Death Eater," she said crossly.

His expression, which had been rather calm up until that moment, took on a mask of unadulterated anger. He strode towards her, forcing her to back up against the bookshelf. He stopped an inch away from her face, formidably staring her down.

When he finally spoke, his words were short and clipped, "Yes, Miss Granger, I am a Death Eater, as you have so astutely pointed out." He moved away from her and drew back his sleeve on his left forearm, exposing the Dark Mark. "Here is the mark I willingly had etched into my arm. Every time it burns, I am not only summoned at Voldemort's will, but I am also reminded of how untrustworthy I am. But thank you for the additional reminder, it has been a few days since I have felt it burn and I was starting to think too highly of myself." His eyes scorched her as he enunciated each word, and she felt utterly ashamed of what she had just said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean… I was just upset about yesterday… and…" she trailed off lamely.

He looked at her with a bit of sympathy, "You have my apologies again about the kiss, I really was not thinking properly at the time."

Hermione felt her blood starting to boil again at that.

"Yes, wonderful, you have made it _**perfectly**_ clear that you have no interest in me but plenty of interest in Daphne Greengrass. I do not think it needs to be said once more," she ground out, wishing she were anywhere else, as his words from the evening before rang in her ears. _This was a mistake, this was a mistake, this was a mistake._

Instead of moving back to let her leave like she had hoped, he looked at her with an expression of astonishment. "Hermione, were you jealous of Daphne?" he asked almost incredulously.

She noted the switch to her given name, but was too embarrassed to take much stock in it. "Must we go over this again? Clearly you have no interest in me, so it is of no matter."

His expression suddenly morphed as understanding dawned on him. "Merlin's, you were jealous," he murmured, taking a few steps towards her. Through her abject mortification, Hermione barely noticed that he was only a step away from being completely pressed against her.

"Hermione," he began, his mouth inches from hers, "Daphne comes from a long line of pure-bloods. The Greengrass family is one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, one of twenty-eight remaining pure-blood families in Britain."

"I know what the Sacred Twenty-Eight is," she said, "Ron is a part of it."

"Ah yes, the Weasleys," he said with a touch of distaste. "Regardless, Daphne comes from a revered line of Slytherins that have close ties with Voldemort. It simply would not do to risk her insinuating anything about my loyalties because I harshly turned down her advances. I had to be more subtle… lead her on and let her down gently if you will."

Hermione's subconscious registered that as valid reasoning although a touch of her anger lingered. Before she could respond, however, he continued on, his lips moving to the shell of her ear.

"Do you know who I was thinking of as I whispered in Daphne's ear? As she leaned over the desk? As she trailed her finger down my robes?" Snape husked into her ear.

Hermione's eyes widened and a shiver went down her body at his hot breath on her sensitive ear. She felt herself unable to respond, and thankfully, he answered his own questions.

"You, Hermione, I was thinking of _you_. And how much I hated myself for kissing you. But also how much I wanted to do it again," he said, his lips moving away from her ear so that he could look her in the eyes. She saw the heat pooling in his dark eyes as she finally found her voice.

"Well then, what are you waiting for?" she asked boldly, pressing her body flush against his.

He let out a growl, moving forward to pin her thoroughly against the bookshelf. His lips crashed against hers as he cupped her face, aggressively claiming her mouth as his. She ground her body against his as they kissed, heat coursing through her veins. He abruptly pulled back for a moment and searched her face, no doubt regarding her swollen lips and dazed expression. He looked at her inquiringly, and she nodded her consent, understanding his implicit question. His angular face suddenly darkened, and he commanded, "Spread your legs, witch."

"What?" she squeaked, momentarily caught off guard before the meaning of his words sent blood rushing down to her nether regions.

"Miss Granger, unless you intend to question me about Miss Greengrass further, I suggest we move things along and you spread your legs," he responded.

Hermione was far from innocent, but she had only slept with blundering teenage boys before. Snape's deep voice, his smooth and confident commands, they were all creating a pool of wetness and she was sure she was soaked. She spread apart her feet, parting her thighs as Snape looked on approvingly. She had chosen to wear a skirt that day and was grateful at the moment for the easy access it would provide him. He crashed his lips against hers once more, nibbling and biting his way down from her bottom lip to fixate on her neck. She arched her head back to allow him better access to the more sensitive spots on her neck, moaning, "oh God, oh Sir," as he nipped at a particularly erogenous area.

He pulled back for a moment to state, "Severus will do just fine." He resumed his assault on her neck, finally taking a hand and starting to move it up her right thigh and under her skirt.

Two fingers stroked her over her knickers as she moaned, "Oh, Severus," lost in what he was doing to her body. _And he's barely even touched you,_ she thought.

His fingers trailed higher, slipping into the waistband of her knickers and finally finding purchase without the barrier of her underwear. He entered her with two fingers, bringing her to her release in mere minutes as he swallowed her moans of ecstasy in an all-consuming kiss.

~o-o-o-o-o~

As she came down from her high, certain that she looked a bit starry-eyed, he motioned in the direction of his bedroom and asked, "Shall we move this somewhere more comfortable?"

She assented and he deftly picked her up by the thighs and carried her into his room, placing her down on the bed. _He definitely does not look this strong,_ she thought. She struggled to make out his figure in the dark, watching him rid himself of his robes until he was left only in a pair of shorts. Impatient, she began to rid herself of her shoes, socks, and shirt as well, leaving herself in a pale blue bra, skirt, and knickers. He looked down at her admiringly, climbing over her and running a hand up her flat stomach to cup a breast over the thin fabric.

She brushed a hand over the strong curve of his shoulder as he suddenly became impatient, crushing his mouth to hers and unhooking her bra with one hand. She pulled her bra off as he shimmied out of his shorts. Her eyes widened at how large he was, pointed directly at her. He looked at her again to get her consent, as she nodded impatiently. He climbed up her once more, positioning himself at her entrance, and slowly entering her as he kissed her. She moaned at the feeling of having him inside her, gasping when he finally reached the hilt and began thrusting with an insistent rhythm.

She was in absolute bliss with him inside her, each thrust driving her higher and higher to the edge once again. His thrusts suddenly picked up as he reached a hand down to stimulate her further, both of them moaning as they reached their climaxes nearly simultaneously.


	9. Winter is Coming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh, is it Monday again? Here are another two chapters to help you get through the week! Please leave a review if you are enjoying the story so far - reviews give me light :)

Hermione awoke to light streaming into the room, sighing contentedly as she felt an arm wrapped around her waist.

She gently attempted to move the arm so that she could rise and put on clothes, when a murmur sounded from the mass of blankets at her left.

"It will be odd seeing your younger self in the hallways today and in class on Monday."

"Oh is it a Friday?" Hermione responded. _I could have sworn it was a Saturday,_ she thought. "Does this mean you have to teach shortly?" she looked over at the blankets disappointedly.

"It's starting to get cold outside, I'll need to encase my chambers in a warming spell presently," the blankets mumbled back irrelevantly.

_God, this was domestic,_ she thought. _Who knew Snape was so reluctant to get out of bed in the mornings?_

She drew back the blankets, revealing the side of his face, and purred, "I can think of many ways to warm you up without the use of spells." She bent closer and trailed a line of kisses down his sharp jawline. She started to roam her hands down his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his muscles under her fingers.

Her hands were quickly stilled though, as he raised his head and smirked at her, saying, "Someone has a lot of ideas this morning."

She blushed as he continued on with a note of regret, "Unfortunately, I must get ready for my morning class." He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, facing away from her, and grabbed his wand from the bedside table.

She stared for a moment at the marks marring his back, shocked by the crisscrossing lines that marked his flesh. Hermione unconsciously traced the raised scar along her own neck, and was about to ask him about his scars, but within seconds, he had waved his wand and was dressed in his robes. He headed to the bathroom, presumably to brush his teeth as the door to the bathroom was left open. She had missed her moment, but hoped that there would be more moments to ask him about his past. She felt eager to know everything about Severus Snape, as if he was an unread book and she could not wait to delve into its depths. She cautioned herself internally, _Don't get attached, this could mean nothing to him. We have lived together for a while – by circumstances - and while there was clearly already a mutual attraction, this is sex, nothing more._

_Might as well enjoy myself though,_ she thought, rising from bed as well and putting on her strewn-about clothes the Muggle way. She followed him into the bathroom, where he was just finishing drying his hands with a washcloth.

"Before you leave…" she trailed off, as she sat up on the counter in front of him and pulled him close, kissing him squarely on the lips. He was momentarily surprised, before quickly kissing her back as her hands wrapped around his neck. _He has really released the vixen inside of me,_ Hermione thought, _I can't get enough of him._

He shortly pulled back from her, with a reluctant sigh and a "Hermione, I am going to be late. I will be back for supper." Moments later, he was gone and she was alone in his chambers.

* * *

She tried to busy herself doing useful things for her mission, but found herself entirely distracted by everything that had transpired.

The more she thought about their night together, the more she started to think that she had been a little hasty. Her happy mood quickly dipped as she began to feel – well, _a little bit like a kept whore,_ she though dolefully. Admittedly, she had jumped into bed with him just as quickly as he had jumped into bed with her. And they had made no promises to each other, but still, it stung a little to know that he thought she was just waiting out the war in his chambers. _Does he believe we are just using each other as playthings until his inevitable end?_ she contemplated miserably.

Worried she was about to talk herself into a state of complete crisis, she left his chambers to take a walk. Outside, the chilly November air warned of impending snow as Hermione attempted to tread as carefully as possible – walking on wet leaves rather than crisp ones. She did not wish to alarm the many students enjoying their Fridays outside with the indeterminate noises of crunching leaves.

The walk seemed to clear the fog that had settled over her. _Maybe I don't have to figure it all out now, _she mused,_ that must be why I have another year and a half to convince the stubborn fool to live. In the meantime, why not enjoy each other's company? _ she concluded. Realizing she had arrived at a similar conclusion that morning, and had thus just been going in circles inside her head all day, she decided to do something more useful with her time. _The time-turner was designed to bring me back to the exact day it did – save for the slight mishap in going back an extra year – and Dumbledore must have accounted for how long it would take me to complete my mission. I need to stop questioning everything._

Her confidence buoyed, she returned to Snape's chambers and occupied herself with trivialities of the season.

~o-o-o-o-o~

When Snape returned later that evening, he opened the door to a very different looking main room than when he had left earlier that day. The pillows and throws of the library area had been turned red and green, and an assortment of snowflake-esque decorations hung from the ceiling and walls around his chambers.

"Uh, Hermione?" he questioned the girl standing in the doorway to his room.

"I thought I would decorate in the spirit of the season," she responded cheerfully.

"My room has been spared, I hope," he said with a twinkle in his eyes.

"I think it looks lovely," she retorted, before continuing, "But yes, your room has been spared."

"It looks… nice," he said begrudgingly, "Well-timed with this blasted invite I just got to one of Horace's parties – a _holiday_ party this time," he continued, saying the word _holiday_ as if it displeased him. He went on, "It's still November, I don't see why people have to get all enthusiastic about Christmas this early."

"Don't be a Grinch," she responded, failing to realize the reference would likely be lost on Snape. "There are some perks to the season," she said coyly, raising her wand in the direction of the ceiling above them.

A small green plant appeared on the ceiling in between the two of them, suspended by a red ribbon.

"Drat, I was going for mistletoe, but I think it's just a common weed," Hermione said, quite dismayed as she walked towards Snape.

He looked at her with crinkled eyes as he laughed – a rich, deep laugh that warmed Hermione and she found herself wishing he would laugh more.

He approached her as she stood under the weed, staring at the plant sadly, and said, "I didn't think I needed an excuse to kiss you…" trailing off as his lips met hers.

They kissed for a while under the random plant, until Hermione pulled back to ask, "Shall we summon Winky to bring us dinner?"

"I actually stopped back to say that I should have supper in the Great Hall. Between my recent teaching absence due to the poisoning incident and my frequent absences from supper, I do not want to set off too much suspicion. No doubt you and your meddling friends are highly suspicious of me at the moment," Snape replied. "However, it would be my pleasure to have a butterbeer with you when I return from supper, if you would like… and provided you can assure me that you will only have one," he said, in reference to her mild alcoholism a few days prior.

"I… I'm not… yes, one is perfectly fine," Hermione responded, about to retort that she was perfectly capable of handling her alcohol but acknowledging that her track record had not been the best.

With that, Snape departed for dinner at the Great Hall and Hermione summoned Winky to bring her dinner and two butterbeers for later.

~o-o-o-o-o~

When Snape returned from dinner, Hermione was relaxing on the window seat, reading a book on potion-making.

She handed him one of the butterbeers resting on the table beside her, taking the other for herself.

"How was dinner?" she asked.

"Dull, as usual," he replied, "But everyone does seem to be excited for the holidays, everything has become remarkably festive around the castle."

Hermione smiled, as Christmas was by far her favorite holiday. "Speaking of the holidays, what do I do with myself?" she asked suddenly, wondering where she would be in four weeks when everyone else invariably went home.

Snape looked at her regretfully, taking another sip of his butterbeer. "I'm afraid my holidays belong to Voldemort – I have numerous Death Eater-related engagements. I believe the Malfoys are hosting Christmas this year," he replied.

"Oh, well, I can just stay at Hogwarts?" she asked with a touch of dismay that her favorite holiday would be spent alone.

"You are welcome to stay here," Snape responded sincerely. Hermione was abruptly struck by how natural their conversations felt and how warm he was towards her – despite loathing the younger her, even at the present. _Will I ever understand him?_ she wondered as she sipped her butterbeer.

"Why do you not like the holidays?" she blurted out, before realizing her question must seem highly random and personal.

He looked at her with an expression of annoyance for a second, before quickly replacing his expression with a playful one, "Well, they were always right before my birthday and so as a child, I didn't enjoy having to wait through them to complete another year." While his expression seemed sincere and joking, she could sense that he was not being completely truthful about his childhood.

She decided to change the subject, asking, "What day is your birthday?"

"January 9th," he responded, "On which day I will be _more_ than double your age," he groaned. "You'll need to keep me young, witch."

"Don't worry," Hermione responded laughing, "My birthday is a few weeks later, and I will be nineteen which will make you _less_ than double my age at that time. It's nice how doubling things works out, isn't it?"

He looked at her oddly, before asking, "Your birthday is in February?"

"February 5th this time around," she responded.

"What do you mean 'this time around'?" he asked, "Do I get the pleasure of choosing the date of my birthday 'this time around' as well? If so, I would like to postpone mine as long as possible," he said.

"Severus, this isn't my time," she said as if it should be obvious, "I left my time on May 5th, and arrived here on a Monday in September. The 21st if I am not mistaken. My birthday has been shifted a little over four months, putting it in early February."

"Ah, of course," he said, his face suddenly taking on a peculiar look. He instantly continued on, "Hermione, I have been meaning to talk to you."

_Oh no,_ her face fell as she wondered what he was about to say.

"I have been so preoccupied with other matters –" _Like helping Draco kill Dumbledore,_ Hermione thought. "- that I had not quite realized the immodesty of our situation. I… I enjoy having you here and I enjoy your company, but if at a certain time you decide that you do not enjoy mine, I do not want the constraints of the war or your supposed mission to beholden you to stay here."

Hermione nodded her understanding of what he was saying, having expected a similar sort of speech.

"I also know that you have been preparing my defense despite my expressed wishes to the contrary. You are free to do as you please, and you have not bothered me with your own activities, but I remain unwilling to be 'saved' as you call it. Is that perfectly clear?" he stressed, his voice taking on a firm tone that would brook no argument.

Hermione's heart sunk – and her pride also smarted at the acknowledgement that she had not been as sneaky as she had presumed. _I should have expected no less, he **is** a spy and hiding my intentions has never been one of my strong suits._ Remembering her resolve from earlier in the day to remain patient and let things run their course, she looked Snape squarely in the eyes, and responded, "Perfectly clear, sir," as she licked the foam from her butterbeer off her lips.

Snape seemed to register her acknowledgement but then appeared distracted by her tongue that had darted out. Hermione, noticing the darkening of his eyes, took another sip of her butterbeer and allowed a generous layer of foam to coat her upper lip.

"Would you like to do the honors?" she asked mischievously. Not needing to be asked twice, Snape took the butterbeer from her hand and placed it down on the table next to his. He leaned across the window seat, dwarfing her with his body as she lay back on the red and green pillows. He slowly lowered his face to hers, teasing her upper lip with his tongue before finally melding his mouth with hers. He tasted of tanginess mixed with butterbeer and Hermione was intoxicated by his kiss – _and the lingering effects of the butterbeer_ – as she ground her body up against his.

He raised his wand to efficiently remove their clothing – the warm lights flickering around them as their rhythmic bodies became one.


	10. 'Tis the Season

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter for today! Hope you enjoy it and please leave kudos and/or a review if you did!! The work is still in progress as well, so constructive feedback is definitely helpful too!!

The next few weeks flew by in a flurry of warm kisses and warm butterbeer. Hermione had even managed to enchant Snape's underground windows to reflect not only the lighting from outside but also the views from the tower windows directly above them. And so she passed her days watching the snow fall on the castle grounds, thoroughly enchanted by the season and by the warm body that lay next to her most nights.

Some nights she would sleep alone in her room – in the interest of "maintaining her independence" or whatever she told herself – but she always missed Snape's presence next to her. A few nights she would fall asleep in his bed waiting for him – and hoping he would return in one piece – and he, thankfully, was always present and healthy when she awoke. It appeared that Voldemort was mellowing due to the season as well, _or more likely he was just waiting until everyone was present at the holidays to demonstrate his power,_ Hermione guessed. And, as future Hermione knew, things were going swimmingly for the Death Eaters, so there was really no need to risk Snape's health by torturing him needlessly.

She was immensely grateful for the peace that it brought them, but as the holidays neared, she could sense Snape getting more and more anxious. He was more withdrawn and was returning later and later at night, exhausted. A few days before the start of the winter holidays, they were both reading side-by-side in his bed, when Hermione summoned the courage to ask what was bothering him.

"Severus, is something wrong?" she asked.

He looked up from his book with a false air of nonchalance: "No, nothing – why do you ask?"

"Because something is clearly wrong," Hermione said, "I should have asked more precisely – Severus, what is wrong? Can I aid you in any way?"

He frowned at her and said icily, "I thought I was clear when I said nothing is wrong."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Are we going to have a row about this? I can start hypothesizing reasons that may or may not mess with the fabric of time depending on what you know, so really it is in _**everyone's**_ best interests that you just tell me."

He pierced her with a cutting look, but then capitulated and laughed, saying, "For Merlin's Sake, does anyone ever win an argument against you? I can't very well let you ruin the fabric of time with my obstinacy."

"No – no one ever does win arguments against me," she responded playfully, "I've been told it's one of my most maddening traits."

"I can think of a few that would top that," he volleyed back with a grin.

She glared at him, but set her book down and turned to face him on the bed, crisscrossing her legs as she waited for him to tell her what was troubling him.

He set down his book as well and turned to face her. "I must confess – when you told me that I do not survive the war, I was relieved. I had not planned on it and it was relief to know that my future, or lack thereof, had been properly anticipated."

Hermione nodded to indicate that she was listening, and waited for him to continue.

"I know – from you – that I do not break my Unbreakable Vow to Narcissa. So I do not perish for breaking it – and I successfully aid Draco in his mission. However, I am later killed by Voldemort, but I cannot understand why my death is necessary if it does not lead to his success?" Snape asked. "I assumed... I assumed that my death at his hands meant that I had erred somehow with Dumbledore's plan and… I am rather unable to figure out how the sequence of events must go."

Hermione was both impressed at his deduction skills and a tad nauseated every time he mentioned his death with such indifference. She had edged closer to him while he went on, clasping one of his hands for reassurance that he was alive at the present. _He will survive, he will survive, I will succeed, I will succeed,_ she repeated her daily mantra to keep her from going crazy.

He finally paused to look at her searchingly, hoping that she would say something to help him understand everything.

"Severus, can you give me a moment? I need to think of what I can reveal without changing the course of what happens," Hermione responded, racking her brain for information that he would need to know at the present for events to unfold the way that she remembered.

She realized the main source of his confusion with a start. _The Elder Wand – of course, he believes it to be myth and I cannot disabuse him of the notion. Or maybe I can convince him to survive based on the false notion that he becomes the master of the Elder Wand? No no,_ she quickly dismissed the notion, _he would see right through that ruse once he knows of its certain existence._

The right thing to say came to her almost as if it was placed on her lips, "I know what I can tell you," she said after a few moments.

He looked immensely relieved and waited for her to go on.

"When everything comes to a head – when the Death Eaters are storming the castle, when Dumbledore is about to die, just wait- have a cup of coffee if you will," Hermione said.

"What?" Snape said, looking at her as if she was utterly useless.

"Have a cup of coffee, with me," she said temptingly, leaning forward to caress his jaw.

Rather than giving in to her distracting caress, Snape looked immensely annoyed. "That's it? The success of Dumbledore's mission hinges on me having a cup of coffee with you while the Death Eaters storm the castle?"

"Tea would do the trick as well," Hermione replied maddeningly.

"Forgive me if I do not find that helpful in the least," Snape said, his frown deepening.

"You will," Hermione responded, thinking of the need for Draco to disarm Dumbledore before Snape arrived on the scene. _He has to be late – delayed for whatever reason. Draco, and then Harry must become the master of the Elder Wand, it cannot die with Dumbledore._

Snape just stared at her as she racked her brain for something more helpful to say.

"Severus, you will succeed. I am here to make sure of it," she said soothingly, unconsciously rubbing his hand with her thumb.

His worried expression relaxed and he murmured, "Alright." However, as quickly as his face relaxed, it speedily turned worried again.

"Hermione?" he asked hesitatingly.

"Yes?" she answered, confused about what else was distressing him.

"I – I…" he paused to find his words, his face an unusual mask of pain. He seemed unable to voice his thoughts, simply staring at her with a choked expression.

She waited for him to speak again, looking at him expectantly as she continued to rub reassuring circles on his hand.

He finally found his voice, sounding strained as he spoke, "Hermione, you came back for a dead man. And I am immensely grateful for your assistance and companionship. But I am putting you at risk - " Hermione felt her feeling of queasiness return at the words 'dead man.'

He continued, "And I cannot have you die because of me. The Dark Lord uses Legilimency to ensure that we remain faithful to him. I am not sure how familiar you are with the art of Occlumency – I myself am highly advanced at it, but I am not a perfect master of the art. I find it extremely difficult to suppress the memories of people I care about. I… I care about you, Hermione."

Hermione's stomach fluttered at his words, her heart soaring as she had long come to care for him too. _But he still said he wished to die,_ her inner voice reminded her. _Are you ready to lose another person that you care for in this terrible war?_ Images of Snape dying on the floor of the Shrieking Shack rose into her mind. The blood spurting from his jugular, him whispering, "Look at me," to Harry, the life slowly leaving his eyes.

She was to have no idea what he was about to say, as she felt her stomach somersault and she ran into the bathroom, promptly throwing up into the sink. She felt tears pricking her eyes as her stomach emptied itself, sensing Snape come up behind her to hold her hair back as she puked again.

"I am so sorry, it must have been something I ate," she lied. Not wanting to leave the conversation where it left off, she quickly added, "I care for you too, Severus."

He crooned something reassuring about getting her into bed, all thoughts of finishing their conversation forgotten as he scooped her up in his arms and took her through the doors adjoining her bedroom. He tucked her into bed, and climbed in beside her for the night.

For the first time, they both fell asleep together in her bed, Hermione's heart aching as he obliviously slept inches away from her.


	11. A Very Death Eater Christmas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next two chapters I am posting are from Snape's perspective! Hope you enjoy them! They happen to be personal favorites just because I love fleshing out his character more.

In the last house on Spinner's End, sunlight streamed through the clouded glass windows on the second floor. Outside, the modest garden had fallen into disuse, overrun with weeds and its vines climbing haphazardly on the exterior of the house. The odd passersby looking at the rundown house would have felt a sense of unsettlement, amplified by the fact that it was the morning of Christmas Eve and the inhabitants seemed to give no indication of acknowledgement of the holiday.

However, the house's current inhabitant was indeed aware of the date and would soon be celebrating the holiday at Malfoy Manor. Severus Snape was just beginning to awaken and rise from his humble cot on this chilly morning. He eased out of bed gently, stretching his cold muscles and staring out the window with an air of reluctance for what the day would bring.

It had been several days since he had left Hermione at Hogwarts and he was beginning to deeply miss her warm smile and lithe body. He longed to feel her soft curves under him and tangle his hands in her long hair. Instead, he was alone in a cold house, preparing to rejoice with the very people whom had stolen Hermione's teenage years from her. He observed his dilapidated surroundings with a long sigh, remembering the history that the walls contained. Shattered glass bottles thrown against the walls, the angry screams of his drunken father, the swish of his father's belt as it cut through the air – and his own fervent pleas for mercy as the belt cut through his skin. He may have chosen to join the Death Eaters, but his father had made him into one long before he stepped foot before Voldemort. He hadn't known kindness as a child, his mother too cowed by his father to step in during his beatings.

_Except I did know kindness – and her name was Lily Evans,_ he thought yearningly. He reached up to wipe the frost off the inside of the window, getting a clearer look at the path where the two of them used to chase each other as children. Her flowing red hair, shy smile, and seemingly bottomless green eyes. He could picture her running down the path to his house to invite him out to play. Lily had been goodness in a world in which he only knew hate. He had despised his father, and resented his mother for failing to step in during his father's rages. His father's beatings had turned him into a callous preteen, and it was not until he was almost fully grown that he appreciated the little love his mother had given him. She had tried to care for him, in the only way she knew how in their tumultuous household. However, for some inexplicable – and unforgivable – reason, she continued to love her violent drunkard of a husband at the expense of her child's wellbeing.

But Lily had been unwaveringly and effortlessly kind to him and he had fallen in love with her kindness almost instantly. He was a lost, lonely little boy who had only learned anger and violence. Lily taught him how to love with her infectious laughter and bright smile. And, as Severus Snape had found out, on the rare occasion that he loved, he did not stop loving. He loved with every fiber of his being and he ached for the beautiful redhead that had brought light to his darkness.

A solitary tear escaped his eye as he was overcome by memories of Lily and her goodness. He hadn't deserved her kindness, and he had repaid her in the worst way possible. He had killed her. He may not have dealt the parting blow but he was the reason she was dead, and every single day he reminded himself of that fact. He had been caught up in the quest to be part of something bigger than himself – bigger than the poor, misfit boy from Spinner's End. He had felt powerless over his own body for much of his life and he craved the power that the Dark Lord had offered. But that power came with a dark soul. _And then my darkness permanently destroyed her light,_ Snape thought. _If even Lily Evans, with her pure heart, could not survive the wickedness of who I am… I deserve to burn in magical hell for eternity._

His pitiful thoughts were interrupted by a resounding knock on his front door and he quickly dressed with a swish of his wand, heading downstairs to meet his unexpected visitor.

"Why, Narcissa, do come in," Severus bowed slightly as the pale, dignified beauty swept past him to his sitting room.

The interior of the house was dusty and dark – due to the cracked and dirty windows – and Narcissa Malfoy looked around searchingly for a suitable place to sit. Snape quickly waved his wand in the direction of two dusty wooden chairs, ridding them of years of dust, and took a seat opposite Narcissa.

She regarded him and his surroundings for a moment before finally speaking, "Severus, it is good to see you looking well."

"Thank you," he responded, "But I assume you are not here merely for pleasantries? I will be at Malfoy Manor for the festivities later this evening."

Narcissa nodded her knowledge of that fact, stating, "I had hoped we could discuss your progress with aiding Draco, away from the ears of the others." Her face took on a worried expression and she wrung her hands nervously.

Snape tried to muster a reassuring expression on his face, leaning forward to steady her trembling hands with his own. "Narcissa, your boy is quite stubborn and has refused my help. Nevertheless, I shall continue to monitor his progress and I am fully prepared to assist him in any way necessary," he said soothingly.

"He has always had a defiant streak – I am sorry that you are being met with his opposition," Narcissa replied anxiously, "But, Severus, have you been able to discern what he is planning?"

"I believe he is pursuing various strategies, but you have my absolute assurance that Draco will succeed with my assistance. I am not only beholden by the Unbreakable Vow but also my own desire to see him succeed," Snape responded, before continuing, "Narcissa, I care for you and your family, and I do not wish to see further punishment be inflicted upon your family."

Narcissa leaned forward, grasping his hands in a gesture of gratefulness as tears began to find their way down her cheeks. "Thank you, Severus, oh thank you. I have been nearly beside myself with worry that perhaps you did not intend to see it through – that the Unbreakable Vow was merely your death sentence. And Draco's death sentence as well." Her dignified exterior was quickly cracking as she spoke of the stress of the past few months. "And Lucius, well, I worry that Lucius has endangered our entire family with his poor decisions. It seems that… that the Dark Lord does not intend to ever restore him to favor."

"It is not for us to speculate on the will of the Dark Lord," Snape responded firmly as he rose from his chair, hoping Narcissa would see that as indication to take leave of him.

She took the hint, rising as well and bidding him farewell, but not before deftly kissing him on the cheek and murmuring, "My everlasting thanks." With that, she went out the front door and disapparated back to Malfoy Manor.

Snape was alone once more in his decrepit dwelling, passing the remainder of the day by practicing Occlumency until there was absolutely no trace of Lily or Hermione or virtuousness anywhere in his mind.

* * *

_The Malfoys had really outdone themselves,_ Snape thought as he entered the ballroom in Malfoy Manor. He had attempted to dress nicely for the occasion, in his customary black dress robes and with his dark hair neatly combed. _It appears I will fit in well,_ he decided as he perused the ballroom. The dark ballroom was lit with chandeliers, giving it an eerie glow. Red and green baubles hovered in the air just below the vaulted ceiling and house-elves were situated across the room holding large silver platters of appetizers. Various Death Eaters and members of pure-blood families stood in the ballroom, chatting in small groups. The women were generally dressed in shimmery robes and the men wore dark dress robes to compliment their wives' attire. The single women at the gathering had chosen slightly more risqué outfits in bright reds and deep greens, the plunging necklines of their gowns revealing ample amounts of skin. Draco - and the other young men present - had chosen more subtle suits of black.

Voldemort sat in the far back of the ballroom, perched on a high throne as he surveyed the festivities with a pleased yet mocking smile - as if everyone present provided him with personal amusement as they carried about like ants in an ant village. Occasionally, he would summon someone forward to speak to him with a "Yaxley, come over here," and would whip out his wand and _Crucio!_ them if they did not provide the answers he required immediately.

Snape greeted the various partygoers in attendance, pausing slightly to regard the Greengrass family and Daphne Greengrass as she kissed his hand in greeting. She had dressed a little more modestly than some of the other women and girls in attendance - including her own sister, Astoria, who seemed rather young to have her breasts so boldly on display. Daphne had dressed in an elegant red gown with lace sleeves reaching her elbows and Snape found himself admiring the dress before he could help himself. Hermione's voice mentally sounded in his ear and he could feel her kicking him in reproach as if she were present.

Anxious that he had thought of Hermione at the wrong time, he glanced at Voldemort to ensure that he was currently busy with a different Death Eater, only to find him fixing him with a look from across the room. He crooked a finger in his direction, summoning him to come over. _I will die at those hands,_ he thought with an involuntary shudder.

He swiftly rushed over to present himself before the Dark Lord, bowing and uttering, "My Lord."

"Severus," the Dark Lord said as greeting. "I am pleased to see you looking well," his words reminiscent of Narcissa's from that morning. _Do I look more well than usual?_ Snape pondered. "I trust all is going as planned at Hogwarts?" the Dark Lord questioned searchingly.

Snape nodded and replied, "As you wish for it to go, My Lord." Voldemort fixed him with a look and Snape could feel him enter his mind, searching for proof of what he was saying. He struggled with the effort of concealing his knowledge of future events, but especially found ridding his mind of Hermione to be particularly taxing. He showed Voldemort as much as he was able to show – his supposed artful manipulation of Dumbledore, his assistance offered to Draco, and his continuous disdain for Potter and his gang's childish antics. He was careful to demonstrate situations that would depict nothing but unwavering loyalty to the Dark Lord, as he had skillfully done for years.

Voldemort paused his searching of Snape's mind, leaning back and clasping his gnarled fingers together with a pleased smile. "You are ever the loyal servant, Severus."

"Thank you, My Lord. I aim to please you," Snape replied obsequiously.

"Do Potter and his friends suspect Draco?" he asked.

"They are suspicious, My Lord, but Draco has done well at hiding his plans," Snape responded, glad to have the chance to praise the boy and elevate his standing in the Dark Lord's eyes.

"Very well, you may go back to your festivities," the Dark Lord said dismissively, beckoning Draco over to no doubt verify what Snape had told him.

Snape was relieved to have satisfactorily met the Dark Lord's questioning, already longing to be back at the castle with Hermione and less in the mood to be tortured than usual. _Not that I am ever in the mood to be tortured, of course, but isn't being at this event torture enough?_ he thought crossly, scanning the room for someone agreeable to talk to.

Relieved to see Narcissa momentarily available, he hurried over to speak to the cordial host and request a dance. He danced away the rest of his evening with various women – including some admiring current students who no doubt were impressed by the regard in which the Dark Lord held him.

They later took their seats in the dining hall for a sumptuous feast and Snape maintained pretenses as he dined with the closest substitutes he had for family. Snow blanketed the manor and celebrations rang out across Magical Britain, children tucked into their beds as they awaited the arrival of Kristopher Kringle.


	12. A Visit to Godric's Hollow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter for today!! Reviews always appreciated and welcome :) 
> 
> Also, please keep in mind as you read this chapter that Hermione has revealed very little, if anything, about the events of the final battle to Snape.

The night of December 31st, 1996 was supposed to be a joyous occasion – tradition dictated that he ring in the New Year with friends and family. However, as Severus Snape had no friends or family, he was free to do as he pleased on this snowy, blustery winter night. The Death Eaters had already toasted to their success in the coming year at supper, and there was clearly no need to bore Voldemort with their miserable company until midnight. And so, Snape found himself outside Malfoy Manor at barely half past eight with nowhere to go.

He briefly considered popping back to the castle before midnight to greet Hermione with a kiss as 1997 dawned, disconcerted at the thought of her spending her holidays alone. But, of course, that would have been far too dangerous, and far too intimate and Severus could not afford to take risks with either his mission or his emotions. _The girl was welcome companionship in these troubling times, and the burden of bearing my secret life – largely alone – had been a lot to bear,_ he thought, _but I cannot allow her to be led on with false assumptions of romance. We are simply two warm bodies seeking comfort in each other._ Nonetheless, the fact remained that he had come to care deeply for the girl and did not want to see her hurt by anything he did. _You've gotten soft, Severus,_ he scolded himself, thinking about the times he relished seeing the girl humiliated in class.

He roused himself out of his thoughts, realizing that he had been standing outside Malfoy Manor for quite a bit of time. As he contemplated where to go for the night, he realized that he had failed to complete a yearly visit due to the necessities of maintaining cover. He disapparated with a pop, finding himself precisely where he had hoped to be and – thankfully – completely alone.

~o-o-o-o-o~

Snow fell around him, speckling his dark robes with white as he shivered in the cold and eerie surroundings. Snowcapped tombstones lined the graveyard at Godric's Hollow, small lights along the grass illuminating Severus' path as he headed straight for a particular gravestone. This was the only grave he had ever visited, and he visited it annually without fail. His father lay in a similar, less tasteful Muggle graveyard miles away and Severus had never visited, refusing to pay his respects to a man who had taken his bottle – and Severus' childhood – to the grave with him. _I hope the inscription on his ramshackle tombstone reads, "Go burn in hell, you miserable alcoholic bastard,"_ Snape thought, anger coursing through his veins at the mere thought of his father. He hated that his loathing for his father still affected him to this day, but there was little he could do to erase the scars from his childhood – both physically and emotionally.

 _At least my father only murdered **himself** with his actions,_ Snape thought as he reached his intended tombstone.

"In loving memory of James Potter and Lily Potter," he whispered, drawing out Lily's name as he said it. Uttering aloud the Potter surname brought a feeling of distaste to his mouth, as did saying James' name before hers. However, he had not come to relive the bullying from his youth, but to focus on paying his respects to and humbling himself before Lily.

He knelt on the cold snow before the white marble gravestone, ignoring the cold that seeped into his robes and pricked his skin. This time, his visit was to take on a more specific tenor – "I am sorry, Lily. _Oh Lily,_ I am sorry. I have watched him and I have looked after him and I have tried everything to ensure his survival. But he must die. He must die for the sake of the Wizarding World and he does not know it yet." Severus bowed his head in sorrow as tears fell down his face, and onto the snow beneath him.

"But you must know, your son will die a hero. His father would have liked that. His son's brashness and fearlessness will serve the world well. Lily, I can see your kindness and warmth in his eyes. The goodness that your eyes reflected on me – he has it too and it will die with him. I am so sorry that your sacrifice cannot save him. But it will save everyone else. I hope… I hope that will bring you some consolation. _But I am so terribly sorry to have failed you and your son._ " Severus wept into the cold snow as he tried to understand how Dumbledore could have allowed him to believe the boy would live – only to disabuse him of that notion recently while Dumbledore awaited his own imminent death.

"I had thought that protecting him would help expiate some of the terrible wrong I had done you, Lily, but I now know that I can never begin to forgive myself. I am eternally sorry that the world is about to embark upon another year without you in it. We are all worse off without you here," he whispered through his tears, tracing the inscription along the gravestone, _"The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death."_

"I did not deserve your kindness and I hope death will confine me to obscurity. But you, dear Lily, will not be forgotten for your immense sacrifice, and neither will your son – even in death," he said as he rose, laying down two daffodils on Lily's side of the grave before standing. He turned as tears continued to slip down his face and disappeared into the swirling snow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First (and only) flower fact of the day: The daffodil is a symbol of rebirth, and also unrequited love. Its nickname is "Lent Lily."


	13. Second Term Commences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe I should switch to writing crime stories with the amount of expectations this chapter will crush. 
> 
> feel free to vent at me in the comments :) I love hearing from you!!
> 
> A warning that some of the content in this chapter is a tad more mature than previous chapters; mentions of ill-deeds by Death Eaters, including rape.

Hermione woke up on the morning of Friday, January 3rd, 1997 with a smile on her face, mumbling her birth control spell for the month, and picking up the novel on her bedside table. It was one day before Snape was set to return to Hogwarts for the second term, and she – as much as she had enjoyed the time to herself to wander the empty castle – had started to feel exceedingly lonely. She had also reached a standstill in figuring out how to protect Snape from Nagini's venom; whispers of the possibility of an antidote had reached her over the years, but no one seemed to have known where to procure such an antidote. _I need Snape's help,_ she thought, frustrated, as that meant she would need him to want to survive before she could figure out how to save him. Regardless, she was greatly looking forward to his return and was equally anxious to learn details of his holidays for his defense journal that she had been keeping.

Just as she shook herself out of her musings and was about to begin reading her novel, she heard a vague scratching noise coming from the main area and she rose to investigate, her wand out. The sound was coming from outside the main door, and she stood ready to confront whoever – or whatever – came through the doors.

She saw a robed arm start to come through the doorway, yelling _Stupefy!_ before its owner could attack her. As the spell barreled towards the shocked form of Snape, who had finally fully entered the room with a luggage trunk in tow, Hermione registered both surprise and dismay on her face.

Much to her increasing surprise, the spell rebounded off of him, hitting her instead as she felt every muscle in her body freeze and consciousness leave her as she fell backwards.

~o-o-o-o-o~

When she came to, Snape was standing over her with his wand pointed at her, no doubt having just cast the Rennervate spell. As her vision cleared, Hermione's face split into a wide smile at the sight of him, her heart racing as he looked at her, his mouth quirked upwards in amusement.

"Is a charm any way to greet someone?" he asked teasingly, looking rather happy to see her as well.

He held out a hand to her to get her off the floor, and she gratefully accepted, before smirking at him and sharply tugging his arm downwards so that he inelegantly fell towards her. He deftly regained balance within a split half second, and slowly lowered himself down on her, as she grabbed his face and crushed it towards her in a fierce kiss. They fused their mouths together hungrily, pouring all of their loneliness from the last couple weeks into the kiss.

Snape pulled back for a moment to mumble, "Now this is a much better way to greet someone."

"You're early," Hermione said breathlessly, pulling him back into another intense kiss. He murmured something about his obligations to the Dark Lord ending earlier that morning and groaned as her tongue teased his tongue, rocking his hips towards hers in payback. She gasped sharply as she felt him come into contact with her center, breaking the kiss to look around for her wand. Both of their wands had rolled a good bit away from them on the floor, and so Hermione opted to undress him the Muggle way, loosening his cravat and unbuttoning the front of his dark robes.

"You have so much fabric on you," she said as she struggled to rid him of his voluminous robes. He regarded her current outfit – a checkered set of pajama shorts and a loose shirt – with a smirk.

"But _you_ do not," he said, his eyes darkening as he reached a hand under the hem of her shirt and ran it up the expanse of her torso, groaning when he felt a bare breast underneath and swiping his thumb over its puckered nipple.

Hermione arched her back, pushing herself towards his hand, which was burning a fire within her as it teased its chosen breast. He bunched up her shirt and moved his mouth to the breast in question, and Hermione was lost in the pleasure he was laving upon her. She reached out an arm, and in a miraculous feat of stretching, managed to grab his wand and rid them both of their clothes. He smirked at her again in his maddening way, whispering unmentionable things in her ear as she impatiently ground herself up towards him.

He took his time with her, however, teasing and taunting her with his mouth all over her body until she was a veritable begging mess, pleading for him to bring her to her release.

"You're a needy little witch, aren't you?" he said with the same taunting grin on his face as she bucked her hips towards him.

"God, Severus, just please, I want you inside of me," she begged wantonly, feeling like she was going to go absolutely mad if he did not enter her that second.

He took pity on her as his expression darkened, positioning himself at her entrance and entering her with a single thrust. She moaned loudly as her brain suddenly panicked about the noise, wondering if the silencing charm was still in effect. As he began to thrust, however, she found herself unable to care in the least, relishing the feeling of finally having him inside her. He continued to lavish attention on the rest of her body, expertly bringing her to her climax just before he reached his. She was lost in a haze of pleasure, collapsing in ecstasy while he soon followed a few thrusts later.

* * *

As they lay on the floor, rather breathless as their heart rates slowed, Hermione took the ill-advised opportunity to ask him something that had been weighing on her mind, "Do the Death Eaters… do they sleep with Muggle women?"

Snape looked at her as if her timing for asking the question could not have been worse, but she persisted. "I mean… do they _forcibly_ sleep with them?"

"Hermione, are you asking me if the Death Eaters rape Muggles?" Snape asked harshly.

"Yes, yes I am," she responded, wincing at his bluntness.

He looked at her as if she was a bit daft and said, "Hermione, they detest Muggles and Muggle-born witches and wizards. The Dark Lord has put together an army of pureblood wizards, or at least those that believe in the importance of a pureblood society. They kill and torture Muggles, do you think that they find themselves above rape?"

"But... my point was that in some Muggle genocides, some groups of power find themselves above the people that they slaughter and so they do not engage with them sexually. But other groups of power have found it to be a sign of dominance to abuse the women and… and assault them where they are most vulnerable."

Snape looked at her darkly, grabbing his wand and quickly charming his robes back onto him.

"Do you mean to ask if I have ever raped a Muggle woman?" he asked Hermione with a hard look.

She realized with a start how her line of questioning must have seemed, but could not quite remember why she had started down the path in the first place. She attempted to look somewhat apologetic, responding with, "I was simply curious as to what the Death Eaters were… well, what they are capable of."

Snape wordlessly stood, fixing her with a scathing look and retired to his bedroom. Hermione was left unclothed on the floor, mentally berating herself for her poor timing at bringing up a sensitive subject. She quickly dressed herself once more but found herself unable to go to her room without passing through his room first.

After aimlessly pacing the library area for a few minutes, she decided to go speak to Snape, knocking on his door hesitatingly. She did not receive a response, but she decided to enter regardless. She entered his room and was surprised to see it empty, when she noticed the bathroom door slightly ajar and heard the shower running.

Impulsively, she headed into the bathroom, pulling off her clothing. The steam obscured the interior of the glass shower, as she pulled open the door to the shower and climbed inside. They had both long grown comfortable with their nakedness, but she still blanched each time she saw the scars marring his back. He seemed to register her entrance into the shower, but remained facing away from her.

She approached him slowly, running her fingers gently over the scars on his back, "Severus, I'm sorry. I didn't intend to insinuate that you had done any of the things that other Death Eaters do. I wasn't thinking and I'm sorry. I was simply asking for academic purposes. I… I don't even consider you a Death Eater."

He spun around at that, his eyes blazing with barely-contained fury, "I _**am**_ a Death Eater. You would do best not to ignore that fact."

Hermione was momentarily stunned at his vehemence, but she responded, "You are a spy for the Order, that does not make you a Death Eater."

"Does this then?" he asked severely, holding up his left forearm to reveal the Dark Mark.

"No," she responded resolutely, staring into his eyes that had grown rather hollow since she had brooked the subject earlier.

"Hermione, do you know what I have seen? What I _did_ as a Death Eater before I became a spy? And what I have witnessed since then and could have prevented but chose not to in the interest of maintaining my cover?" he asked in a deflated voice, the burden of his years as a Death Eater suddenly seeming to exhaust him.

"Why don't you enlighten me?" she asked him.

"You would never look at me the same," he said tiredly, beginning to turn away from her as the hot water coursed over them both, blurring Hermione's vision as she edged nearer to him.

She blindly reached up to turn his face back towards hers, tenderly cupping his cheek, as she whispered, "I already know about Lily, does it get worse?"

He pulled back as if burned at the mention of Lily's name and grabbed her wrist punitively, removing her hand from his cheek.

"Don't speak of her," he commanded, seething as his eyes narrowed into slits.

Far from deterred, Hermione moved her other hand to his back and asked, "What about these scars then, can we speak of them?" she challenged. She continued, "or should I just sit in your chambers and look pretty for you while you grace me with your presence every night and silently fuck me?"

He just glared at her, unwilling to respond.

His refusal to respond was the last straw for Hermione, whose resentment at the entire situation had finally bubbled to the surface. She had tried to be gracious but the stress and anxiety had mixed with her other overwhelming emotions and had finally cracked her resolve. And if she was being honest with herself, the sole promise of his continued company in bed was no longer enough to deal with what was surely to be a failed mission.

She stepped back from him with a sigh and asked, "Have you changed your mind about not wishing to live?"

He curtly shook his head.

"Then there is nothing left for me to do here," she said, looking at him with an immense amount of sorrow.

He looked at her with a strange expression on his face, before saying hoarsely, "I understand."

With that, she stepped out of the shower, grabbed her wand, and returned to her room for what would be the last time as she quickly dressed and packed up all of her things.

By the time he got out of the shower, she would be long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Srry to everyone who had hoped for a budding Snape family and got this instead - sometimes nausea is just anxiety, sadly.


	14. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Re: Hermione leaving, I feel like she needed a break. She is after all only a teenager. Don't worry, I shall not break your trust in me by keeping them apart forever.
> 
> Also, the next few chapters will be shorter as they are more snapshots in time, fyi! 
> 
> Here are two for today!

The hot sun beat down on her body and Hermione Granger sighed in pure contentment as the sound of crashing waves mixed with the heady scent of sea salt, tantalizing her senses.

_Happy 19th birthday to me,_ she thought, drawing in a long, calming breath as she lay on a pinstripe beach towel. _Jamaica really is beautiful this time of year,_ she thought happily. A tiny voice in the back of her head tried to remind her that her vacation – while long overdue – was coming at the expense of her mission, but she refused to give the voice any airtime. _I may be tenacious and never back down from a challenge, but even I know a lost cause when I see one._ And Snape was that exactly – a hopeless, fruitless, exhausting endeavor that had left her an emotional wreck. She couldn't quite place her finger on why she had needed to leave – on why she literally could not bear to stay another minute – but she resolved it was likely for the best. _The best for **both** of them,_ she thought resolutely.

She had left rather suddenly, running to the Hogwarts disapparition point under the cover of the invisibility cloak. Always resourceful, she had realized that her satchel contained a single Muggle bankcard that was not from the future, and so she had taken the risk of withdrawing a sizeable sum from a Muggle bank in London as current Hermione Granger. _Thank goodness_ her parents had wanted her to have a couple Muggle bankcards for holidays spent with them, as well as for backup in case she decided to rejoin the Muggle world permanently. She assumed present-day Hermione would need Galleons more than Pounds in the immediate future and thus would hopefully not notice the dip in her bank account until the war was over. And at that point, present and future Hermione would be one and the same.

She sighed happily and reached over for her satchel, pulling off her swim cover-up and tucking it away from the sand. Clothed in a pale orange bikini, she ran towards the crashing waves, laughing as the hot sand burned her feet and salt stung her skin. A few Muggle families watched her from the shore with barely concealed amusement – she most definitely looked like it was her first time ever at the beach. _To think – all of this was just an apparition spell away,_ she contemplated gleefully as she dove into the waves, soaking herself in the warm saltwater.

She stayed in the ocean until the sun went down, her lithe form silhouetted against the beautiful pink-oranges of the Jamaica evening sky.

* * *

When she retired to her cheap hotel for the night, she immediately stepped into the shower to wash the salt and sand off of her body. After her shower, she went over to her bottomless satchel to grab a pair of pajama shorts and a loose fitting top. She had been reluctant to properly unpack, not knowing how long she would be staying or if she would be discovered – however doubtful – and have to leave quickly. She pulled out a pair of checkered shorts and shirt that she hadn't worn since her last day in Snape's chambers.

As she put them on, their scent sent waves of nostalgia through her. The musky scent that was uniquely his – and had permeated his chambers – had clung to her clothes and now occupied her nose, filling her with longing. Her senses tingled as she remembered him running his hand under her shirt and up her body. _No, no, no, not today,_ she stopped herself, _I refuse to think of him today._ She pulled off her pajamas and settled for a flowy dress instead, heading out onto her rickety balcony with cheap bottle of champagne in hand.

She popped the cork into the night, watching it fly over the edge of the balcony and land in the bushes somewhere below. As the bottles' bubbles began to overflow, coating her hand, she – for the first time – drinking alone on the balcony of dodgy motel in Muggle Jamaica – felt truly young.


	15. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the second chapter for today :) Reviews always welcome and appreciated!

He was certain he was going mad. Why else would he still be thinking about her two months later? And not just thinking about her - _aching_ for her.

He rationalized his feelings as simple worry - worry that she would not conceal herself well enough and would not survive the war this second go around. _Where was the bloody girl anyway?_ he wondered grudgingly. _I hope she is far, far away from here..._

He had settled back into a rhythm of loneliness and spying - and Winky did not question his renewed nighttime requests for healing potions. Of course, it helped that his punishments were far less frequent as the Death Eaters drew closer to taking control of Hogwarts. But still - there had been a couple nights in the last two months where he would have greatly benefitted from Hermione's attentive and healing hands.

_Merlin's, her hands..._ He sighed heavily as now he was thinking about what her hands could do to his body. Teasing him in the right places, massaging the tension out of his day. _Dammit all,_ he wished she were back with him.

The witch, in a few short months, had managed to get under his skin and mark herself upon him so indelibly that he could not bring himself to forget her. And not for a lack of trying – he had sat in meetings with Dumbledore or the Dark Lord and willed himself not to think of her, but think of her he still did. It seemed the more he attempted not to think of her, the more he did.

Worst of all, he had her goddamn face sitting before him in class - a not much younger, equally attractive Hermione who was the living and breathing younger self of the girl who haunted his dreams. And he was forced to watch the girl lust after that pathetic Ron Weasley – it was almost ironic how sad his life was as history repeated itself for the second time.

But at least this time around, he knew that the girl whom he could not shake from his thoughts did not deserve him. Hermione had rightfully moved on from him, as what future would he have been able to provide her in one short year?

_Now you're thinking of her future? Get yourself together, Severus,_ he cautioned himself. He was sitting alone in his chambers on this gloomy Saturday night and had been lost in thoughts of Hermione for some time. With a frustrated groan, he rose and left his chambers, resolving to solve his problem as he had solved his problems as a young Death Eater.

* * *

He strolled down a cobblestone road under the night sky, entering a nondescript bar in a nondescript British town. He nodded to the barmaid at the entrance to the establishment, and went up the winding wooden staircase to the upper floor for the first time in seventeen years. _Yes, it was still one of **those** places,_ he thought with both disdain and satisfaction.

The upper floor was dark and smoky, filled with scantily clad women and men who mingled around the bar. He availed himself of the nearest blonde woman with a practiced flip of his finger and gestured down the back hallway to the adjoining rooms.

~o-o-o-o-o~

He finished inside of her with a satisfied grunt, paying the required amount and quickly leaving the bar down the wooden staircase. As he apparated back to the castle, he was left feeling a strange sense of unease rather than relief at finally having a quick fix for his needs. He dismissed it as a byproduct of the disquieting establishment in which he had done the deed, and returned to his chambers, pleased he would finally be able to focus properly on aiding Draco.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist, he is still unable to focus properly


	16. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In anticipation of everyone feeling like she's gone a bit wild child and run out on her responsibilities, I think it's realistic that she needs to live a little after years of studying and saving the magical world. That said, this chapter may seem a bit farfetched but even real life often is hahah. Hope it doesn't drive you toooo mad.
> 
> Chapter 1 of 2 for the day :)

_The Irish really are lovely,_ Hermione thought to herself as she and her newfound friends downed a pint at a local tavern on this clear and bright Thursday night.

She had spent a month in Dublin thus far and had relished the opportunity to witness the changing of winter into spring in beautiful Ireland. She had even started to drop her wariness at being identified - present day Hermione was at Hogwarts and there was no reason for Death Eaters and the like to be looking for her elsewhere. Although that would change in a few short months, she was currently making the most of her freedom.

She had long wondered what attending a Muggle university would be like - what her fate would have been if she hadn't received a letter from Hogwarts. And so, she busied herself attending larger lecture classes at Trinity College Dublin and stayed at a local youth hostel. None of the sleepy college students had even realized that she had waltzed into their classes mid-March and naturally, she took notes just as diligently as a registered student.

And thus, she found herself with a new group of University friends that were none the wiser that she was an imposter of a student. She found the masquerade to be somewhat of an entertaining game - something to apply her brain to whilst she kept her mind off the Wizarding World she had all but abandoned temporarily.

She fully embraced the Muggle student way of life, wanting to make the most of her experience in Dublin. It was odd doing things as a Muggle again, as she had been using magic since the young age of eleven. Every time she needed something from across the room, her wand hand twitched at the urge to _Accio!_ it over while her feet reluctantly allowed her to go over herself.

"Hermione, raise your glass," her friend Eileen said to her, waving her glass in front of Hermione's spaced-out eyes, as the group chorused, "Cheers!" together.

She raised her glass belatedly, clinking it with her friend Edmund to her left who took pity on her slowness. The redhead smiled broadly at her as she took stock of the attractiveness of his face for the first time. _He's rather cute,_ she noticed as he gulped down his drink and engaged in conversation with the others.

She carried on watching him talk and laugh for a while until he noticed, saying, "You're mighty quiet today."

"Just thinking," she replied, smiling at him reassuringly.

"You know what I was thinking?" he responded, grinning back, "Maybe you and I can go out sometime?"

She briefly wondered how many drinks both of them had imbibed, but nodded nonetheless, flattered when his face lit up at her agreement. She was momentarily stunned when he leaned close to her face and laid a sloppy kiss on her lips, grinning as he pulled back and said, "It's a date then."

Their friends looked on in approval, clapping and laughing and hollering about how Edmund had finally gotten the courage to ask her out.

Hermione laughed with them – happy, for the first time in ages, to be attracted to someone with whom the vague possibility of a future glimmered in front of her.

All of her worries and responsibilities from the magical world seemed simply like a bad dream here in Muggle Dublin – surrounded by friends and a romantic interest who were all but guaranteed to survive until old age.

 _The Muggles are safe because of your sacrifices,_ her inner voice reminded her, _but you are, and always are, allowed to stop sacrificing. You deserve happiness too._

And so she seized her happiness, and she held onto it like it was the most precious gift she had ever received.

This time, she raised her glass on cue, as she and her friends clinked their glasses together, filling the bar with warm "Cheers!" to her budding romance with Edmund.


	17. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and sweet! Well, maybe just a little sweet. Reviews are very appreciated as usual!
> 
> Chapter 2 of 2 for the day :)

He wasn't quite sure when it happened, but all of a sudden the memories he had of Lily became fuzzier – when he tried to remember the warmth in her eyes, he found himself longing for the warmth of Hermione's eyes.

It wasn't that Hermione was a replacement for Lily, he was fairly certain that people did not work that way. But the things he loved about Lily, he started to realize that Hermione possessed those qualities as well.

_These Gryffindor women will really be the death of me – no pun intended,_ he groaned. For the first time, he had felt his everlasting loyalty to Lily wavering and the thought frightened him. His certainty in Hermione's future being better without him started to waver as well – _what if she ends up with a Weasley or someone equally detestable? The Weasley boy can hardly take care of himself, let alone her,_ he thought disgustedly.

However, it was clear that such things were futile to dwell on as he had absolutely zero way of ever contacting the girl should he want to convey his worry for her future or ascertain her wellbeing. _The girl was gone,_ he thought resignedly, _and I need to focus on completing my task for Dumbledore and Narcissa. What was it that vexing girl said again? Be late to killing him? I suppose I can honor her wishes by having a cup of tea before I join the Death Eaters to do the deed._

He heaved a long sigh, relieved to have at least procured a slight amount of helpful information out of the girl who irritatingly continued to occupy his thoughts.


	18. The Month of Dumbledore's Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 of 2 today :)

_A week until Dumbledore's death,_ Hermione thought somberly, sitting in a quaint coffee shop in Muggle London on this bustling Monday morning. She had mourned his death once, but after seeing him in the flesh and blood again, she felt inclined to mourn his death a second time around.

She had run out of money about mid-May – coinciding with the opportune moment to drop her pretense of being a student in Dublin and disappear before she had to somehow pretend to be undertaking final exams. She and Edmund had rather steadily been finding out over the course of their few weeks together that they had little in common and furthermore, she had grown tired of his inexperience. _Did all Muggle boys that age seem rather foolish in the ways of romance – and in life in general?_ she wondered to herself. He was cute and could be charming, but his appealing qualities seemed to end there. _Snape has well and truly ruined you for all these… these **boys** ,_ she thought with a touch of disdain.

Speaking of Snape and her continued acts of foolishness, she had returned to London, for all intents and purposes, to withdraw more money in person at the bank. However, she had been standing in line at the bank when she had seen a family friend of her parents, panicked, hidden behind a potted plant, and then subsequently realized, in a wild leap of her train of thoughts, that she could observe her parents from afar – or as she liked to think of it, _gone completely mad._ It was more than a risk to lurk around places her parents frequented – it was utter foolishness. But she hadn't seen them in over a year, and she yearned to see them in absolutely any way possible. And so she observed her mother doing the Sunday grocery shopping in Hampstead Garden, and watched her father and mother commute to work together, smiling and laughing as they flashed their beautiful teeth at each other. It brought her a strange sense of peace to know that they were happy now – and would be happy in Australia, and so she did not come to regret her decision to stalk her parents around London.

However, she had begun to deeply regret a different decision of hers: her decision to walk out on her mission so quickly. She had been overly exhausted and emotional, and had truly needed a break after the stress of wartime. But she had started to feel an immense amount at guilt at giving up on Snape with the speed that she did – even if it **was** honoring his wishes. _His life is worth so much more than the time you spent trying to save it,_ she scolded herself as she sipped her latte. _**He** is worth so much more, _ she thought, as she remembered how he had comforted her after she had been sobbing about her parents. _He is kind, despite the fact that his years as a Death Eater and spy have hardened him. And he is brave, intelligent, and loyal. You owe him more than the three and a half short months you spent trying to find him a reason to live._

She felt tears begin to prick her eyes as she remembered how she had all but condemned him to a certain death by walking out on him. His face from their last day together rose into her thoughts: his strong jaw and hollow eyes – she longed to make those eyes whole again, to erase whatever was causing them such pain. She sipped her latte more aggressively now, angry at herself for leaving so quickly but utterly unsure how to rectify the situation due to the danger that was beginning to creep upon the magical world. _It would be extraordinarily dangerous to return to Hogwarts at the moment - everyone is on alert,_ she thought. As she aimlessly glanced around the coffee shop, she noticed the barista giving her an odd look but she was unable to figure out why.

As a look of recognition seemed to flicker in his eyes, she noticed the back shelf of the bar area held an assortment of jars – one of which looked like it contained _Murtlap tentacles? and another seems to have rat tails? It couldn't be,_ she thought, _I must just be missing the Wizarding World and seeing signs of it everywhere._ She shook herself out of her thoughts, chalking them up to her imagination, and rose to use the bathroom at the coffee shop – leaving her almost empty mug on the table for when she returned. As she headed down the short hallway to the left of the bar, she – on impulse – glanced into the back room and noticed a small black cauldron with spirals of vapor rising from it. _Is this a Wizard-owned coffee shop in Muggle London?_ she wondered. _Maybe the barista vaguely recognized me from that blasted Rita Skeeter's gossip column in The Daily Prophet._ She resolved to quickly leave the establishment before he realized exactly who she was, hurrying back to grab her mug and place it in the dish return.

As she picked up her mug, the faint scent of freshly mown grass and new parchment reached her nose. _They're brewing amortentia,_ she thought with a start -

"Oh!" she exclaimed, as the third scent reached her nose and – for the first time – she identified it. Her mug came shattering down to the floor as she stood in front of the dish return with a look of shock on her face. The barista stared at her as she muttered her apologies, quickly picking up the broken pieces, throwing them away, and handing him a five pound note. She fled from the coffee shop before he had time to regard her face longer – and God forbid, recognize her.

 _That smell,_ she thought as her mind swirled overwhelmingly, reminding her of all the places she had smelt it even after she had tried to rid her brain of it. It had clung to her clothes long after she had left, and had permeated her nose every day that she spent in his chambers. _It was **his** ,_ she thought as she rushed down a cobblestone street with little destination in mind. As her luck would have it, the sky decided to not look kindly upon her, and opened up in torrential rain as she ran about London aimlessly, attempting to gather her wits.

She ducked into an alleyway and took out her wand, muttering a charm to keep her dry despite the rain. Finally alone and dry, she took some calming breaths and began to process the fact that Severus Snape's unique scent had just hit her in the middle of a London coffee shop. Via the fumes of a love potion. _Oh god,_ she groaned to herself, this is not good at all. She had been momentarily intoxicated by his scent – drawn to it like someone who had been starved of it for far too long. And she **had** been starved of it – _and most definitely for far too long,_ she thought, her craving for his presence having acutely reintensified.

Her heart raced as she took another deep breath, leaning against the brick wall in the alleyway to steady herself. She had made up her mind – she would have to find a way to get to him, no matter the risk.


	19. Summer at Spinner's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 2 of 2 for today!! 
> 
> Sadly I start work again on Monday so these updates will drop down to much less frequently. But hopefully this chapter makes up for that! A review would make my heart glow in the meantime :)

_This has been the longest week of my life,_ Snape thought. Between murdering Dumbledore and nonstop meetings at Malfoy Manor during which the Dark Lord planned his vision for Hogwarts, he was completely exhausted. Furthermore, casting the Killing Curse had not come without the requisite emotional consequences, despite the fact that Dumbledore had wished to be killed. _My heart feels like it was ripped into shreds, as if it was put through a meat grinder,_ he thought wearily. _Not that I had much of a heart to begin with… Lily stole most of it and Hermione took with her the little piece I had left._

He slunk down a darkened street in Cokeworth, looking up with a distasteful expression at the broken streetlamps that lined Spinner's End. He stopped at the last house on the street and ascended the rundown steps, pausing at the entrance of the house to take out a set of Muggle keys. On impulse, he tried the doorknob before inserting the key and was surprised to find it unlocked. _Who would've broken into this disgusting excuse for a home?_ he thought as he pulled out his wand, entering cautiously with his wand illuminating the entranceway. He saw no one in the immediate vicinity, but noticed a light shining from the sitting area. He walked slowly to the doorway of the sitting room, peering around the threshold with the subtlety of a well-practiced spy.

He blinked a couple times, confused by the figure that sat on a wooden chair towards the back of the room, reading a book with an air of calmness. He entered the room slowly, staring as if he could not comprehend what was occurring. The figure looked up at him and raised an eyebrow at him, as if she had been practicing, and said, "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

He continued staring unbelievably at her. _My eyes must be playing tricks on me. This is it, Severus, you have finally gone mad,_ he said to himself.

She continued on, her voice taking on an edge of nervousness, "I… I remembered from the marriage announcement in The Daily Prophet, where Eileen Prince married a Muggle, Tobias Snape…" he cringed at the mention of his father, and it did not seem to go unnoticed by the girl, who quirked her head curiously at him. "I remembered that it mentioned the town of Cokeworth, and I came here and went to the rather unsightly-looking Town Hall and scoured the property ownership records for Tobias Snape. I found a notation bequeathing this house to you after his death. And so here I am."

"So here you are…" he responded, unable to think of anything else to say as he continued to stare at the girl. She looked surprisingly well, especially against the sorry backdrop of his house. Her cheeks were a bit flushed and her eyes rather shiny, and her trembling hands betrayed her anxiety at the situation.

She pressed on, paying neither her nor his discomfiture any notice. "Severus… Severus, I am here… I am here because I need to tell you something." He regarded her now more believably, _maybe I haven't gone mad, maybe she isn't a figment of my imagination, maybe she just had a message about the war that she had forgotten to convey before._

"Miss Granger, what is it you need to tell me?" he asked finally, ignoring the racing of his heart as he tentatively acknowledged the possibility of her presence in his home.

She looked at him inscrutably and murmured, "Have we returned to formalities now? This isn't quite the welcoming committee that I expected."

The sarcasm in her voice warmed him, oddly enough, and he felt the sudden urge to grab the girl, hold her, touch her – anything to confirm that she was truly in front of him once again.

"Did you not miss me?" she pressed.

He sucked in his breath at that, but decidedly to answer honestly, "I think you know that I did."

She rose at those words, placing the book on the floor after finding no other appropriate place to put it, and approached him.

He backed up slightly as she drew nearer, unwilling to allow her near him as if it would shatter the illusion of her before him.

"It's me, Severus, are you afraid that I'm just a figment of your imagination? That your hand will slip right through me when you reach out?" she asked as she drew nearer.

"What do you need to tell me?" he asked harshly, waiting for her to either spit out the reason for her return or disappear into thin air as the dream ended.

She looked at him softly, and as if a great weight was about to be lifted off of her shoulders, exhaled a breath and replied:

"I love you, Severus."

~o-o-o-o-o~

_Oh, this is a new dream,_ he thought as he stared unblinkingly at her.

Hermione stared at him as well, waiting for a response, but when she got none, she continued to speak, "I love you, I really do. I know it sounds mad, and it's not because of the amortentia fumes or because I want you to live – I mean, I do want you to live, but I also cannot imagine my life without you. And I did live without you for months and there was always this voice in the back of my head telling me that I shouldn't be off gallivanting without you. Because it's not that I wanted to be happy _without_ you – it's just that you didn't give me any way of being happy _with_ you. Oh god, I'm rambling. But the point is: I want you. And I want to be happy with you. And not for a year while we wait out your death like a sad Muggle movie – "

" – Severus, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Pinching myself, I should have woken up long ago," he said, confused as to how this dream was still going on.

She looked at him as if he were utterly mad, and got closer to him so that they were mere inches apart, both of them standing in the dark under the entryway to his sitting room. Her hand rose in front of his eyes momentarily, moving to rest on his cold cheek and warming it. Tears slipped from her eyes as she ran her thumb over his cheekbone and whispered, "I don't know when I started loving you, but I do know that I never want to stop."

The hand on his cheek suddenly struck him as very real and he was dumbfounded that the real Hermione had just confessed her love for him.

"Were you cursed?" he asked suspiciously, raking his eyes over her for any signs of injury or magical coercion.

"God, you are difficult," she groaned. "No, I was not cursed and yes, I love you, you fool."

He eyed her again, conflicted about whether or not to believe her. He finally decided to assume she was speaking the truth, as it seemed easier.

"Hermione," he said gently, "You can't love me."

"Well, I do," she replied obstinately.

"I don't think you understand… I don't deserve your love," he said, his voice cracking as he stared into her warm eyes.

"I believe that is for me to decide, is it not?" she replied. "I didn't think you went around telling people whom to love."

"Hermione – "

" – no," she cut in, "you don't seem to be listening to me. I love you because you are _you._ I love your loyalty and your bravery, I love the way your eyes crinkle in the corners when you laugh – no matter how rare it is. I love you enough to be saying all these things like we are in a tacky Muggle romance film."

He felt his heart beat erratically at her words. "Hermione, I am a man condemned to death."

"You have condemned yourself to death," she hissed at him angrily. "No one is condemning you to death except yourself."

"Hermione, when you are alone, you have the right to choose when you live and when you die," he responded wearily.

"If you would listen," she ground out, "you would realize that I am trying to tell you that you are not alone."

"You aren't being fair," he replied, "I… I made this decision before you had any say in it."

"For ridiculous reasons," Hermione all but screamed.

He was momentarily taken aback by her vehemence as his memories started swirling and grief washed over him.

"I killed Lily," he whispered as a tear trickled down his face and hit the hand still cupping his cheek. "And every day since, I have wished it were me who died in her place."

"What if I offered to die in your place?" she answered.

"What?" he replied, flummoxed by the question.

"You must live, Severus. I made a promise to keep you alive."

"So you would give your life just to complete your mission?"

"No, you idiot. I would give my life for you to live. You _deserve_ to live, Severus. How is that any different than what you would have done for Lily?"

"It's entirely different – for one, you didn't have a direct hand in my death," he replied bitingly.

She looked at him sorrowfully, "If I fail to save it, I believe I will have had a direct hand in it."

Understanding washed over him at the difficult position the girl had been placed in. "That blasted portrait of Dumbledore had no right to send you on this mission, _of course_ you would never allow yourself to fail at it," Snape said angrily. He continued hesitatingly, "Hermione, even if I decided to live – it would be to spare you the pain and guilt of my death. I don't want to mislead you into believing otherwise."

In other circumstances, she would have rejoiced at his grudging admission that he was considering the possibility of life. However, she had long realized that keeping the shell of him alive in a twisted sense of obligation to her own feelings would be worse than allowing him to die.

"Regardless of the guilt I would feel at your death – the fact remains that I love you and I want you to live. And not for a brief romance so that I can send you to your executioner after a yearlong wartime fling. However, I do not want you to live to prevent my guilt at your death. I want you to _**want**_ to live – for me, for us, for your future. I promise it is so much brighter than you can even imagine," Hermione pleaded.

He looked at her regretfully and said, "If you do not wish me to live for you, I cannot live for myself. The pain and guilt of my past is too much to bear. Please convey to Dumbledore my apologies." He removed her hand from his cheek, and turned to leave, feeling rather like he had been punched in the stomach repeatedly.

"It isn't Dumbledore who I came here for," he heard her voice cry after him. He turned in curiosity and waited for her to continue.

"I promised Harry I would save you," she said desperately, her voice sounding anguished.

~o-o-o-o-o~

He looked at her piercingly, wondering when Harry had taken the time to declare his wishes about Snape prior to his own death. _Or why Harry had even wished for him to live._

"Well, it appears we are at an impasse then as we are both beholden to promises to dead Potters," he said scathingly, angry that Hermione had broached the subject of Harry.

She looked at him with confusion on her face. "Dead Potters?" she asked.

"I believed you were aware that I wished to die because of my promise to Lily Evans."

"What?" Hermione asked, looking more confused now. "Yes, I am aware that you inadvertently betrayed Lily and promised Dumbledore that you would protect Harry in order to keep her legacy safe."

"I promised Lily as I held her in my arms on that fateful night – I swore to her that I would protect Harry for as long as I lived."

"As long as _you_ lived or as long as _he_ lived?" she asked.

"Does it matter?" he asked, growing weary of the conversation. "Are they not one and the same?"

She looked at him searchingly, still seeming rather confused by what he was saying. Her eyes widened as the pieces clicked together in her head. "You promised Lily that you would protect her son in return for betraying her. And you believe you failed. Severus, when Dumbledore's portrait mentioned that there was one remaining time turner that could be used to save someone whose death wouldn't alter the fabric of time, _Harry chose you._ He was there – we were all there. Including Ron who loses family members in the final battle. Even he reluctantly agreed that you were the only one who could both be plausibly saved and deserved to be."

He felt his world momentarily get knocked off balance as he processed what she had just told him. "Harry lives?" he asked weakly, staring at her in shock.

She nodded, "Yes, Severus, you did not fail Lily."

Tears started pooling in his eyes as he sunk down to the floor, overwhelmed by the feeling of relief coursing through his body. He felt as if the entire weight of the world had been lifted off his shoulders, _the boy lives, he lives,_ he repeated to himself. _Lily's death was not in vain. Her legacy and her lineage will continue._

"But how? Didn't Harry have to die in order for the Dark Lord to be killed?"

"When the Dark Lord cast the killing curse, it only killed the part of him that was in Harry. The Boy Who Lived is eternally the boy who will live, it seems."

Snape closed his eyes to process everything she was telling him, breathing deeply as he gathered his wits. He felt the burden of Lily's memory and his duty to her begin to lift as the reality of Harry's survival sunk in.

When he finally had a few moments to process things, he reopened his eyes. He looked at Hermione, who had sunk down to the floor with him to sit opposite him and was regarding him with a gentle look on her face. _She looks beautiful,_ he thought, as she smiled at him tentatively, her loving eyes seeming to stare into his very soul.

He asked her hesitatingly, "Do you believe it is selfish to love again?"

She looked at him incredulously, and whispered, "Oh Severus, you don't have to… just because I said it…"

"I do have to say it. I imagine I love you as well, Hermione," he said cautiously as her face lit up in unadulterated joy.

She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing him as if he would disappear at any moment. He wrapped his arms around her small frame as well, savoring the feeling of having her in his arms once again. They stayed intertwined for a while, their hearts beating against each other in the rhythm of two people who had finally found solid ground in the arms of one another.

The war raged around them, but in his world, in his ramshackle house on Spinner's End, there was only her.


	20. Bliss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii everyone, sorry for the crazy wait for this chapter, life has been so busy. I will try to update more often now that things are settling :) Reviews make me glow in the meantime.

The light streamed through the foggy, cracked glass on the upper floor of the last house on Spinner's End. Hermione stirred and slowly opened her eyes, smiling at the body entwined with hers on the tiny and rather uncomfortable bed. It seemed to her that everything in this house was designed to meet his bare minimum of needs – provide enough to survive but never enough to bring any joy.

She lazily traced a scar that had curved its way onto his upper shoulder, smiling broadly as he opened his eyes and broke into a grin at the sight of her.

She leaned into his kiss, murmuring against his mouth, "How terrible would it really be for the fabric of time if we ran away together?"

He laughed, the sound filling her with happiness, and replied, "Could you really picture either of us permanently abandoning our responsibilities to go lie on a beach?"

"I've done it," she replied, smirking, "I can guarantee it is most definitely a possibility."

"But you returned," he responded, leaning in for another kiss.

"That I did," she hummed contentedly as he swung a leg over her body to kiss her more deeply, grinding his body down onto hers.

They tangled themselves in the sheets once more, taking advantage of the brief moment of respite from the war that his tumbledown house provided them.

~o-o-o-o-o~

They were lying on his bed once again, panting and with their limbs intertwined, when he turned to her and whispered reluctantly, "We need to make plans. Time is of the essence."

Hermione nodded equally reluctantly and rose from the bed to grab her wand and dress herself. Snape did the same and they sat back on the bed facing each other with an odd degree of intensity as the reality of the task ahead of them sunk in.

"I… I assume this means that you wish to live?" Hermione asked, seeking confirmation.

He bore his eyes into her own before simply replying, "Yes."

"Okay, yes, I assumed as much, but I wanted to confirm..." she trailed off as his hand came to rest on her cheek, his gaze staring deeply into her unsure eyes.

"Yes, Hermione, yes," he repeated.

"Okay," she said more assuredly, as unbidden tears started to track their way down her cheek.

He wiped them away quickly and moved on, correctly guessing that she preferred to distract herself from the intensity of her emotions. "Our first order of business is how to keep you safe until May," he said.

She smiled wanly at that, "Maybe that is your first order of business… but mine is keeping you alive, informed, and in the Dark Lord's good graces while we figure out how to mimic your death without you in fact dying."

"I believe we will both need each other quite literally in order to make it through the next several months," he responded.

"For starters, you will need to know what date Harry is being moved…" Hermione said half-heartedly as she remembered the losses from that night.

He smirked at her, his smile belying the gravity of the situation: "And when the Dark Lord asks how I know the information? Would 'my Gryffindor lover from the future' not be an appropriate answer?"

She smiled despite herself and responded, "Just say you confunded Mundungus or something, he is the one who had the idea of moving Harry earlier as well as the idea of the… oh never mind… I can't tell you this part. Partial info should still keep you in enough favor, right?"

He winced, "I hope so."

She picked up on his wincing and anger shot through her at the thought of him being punished by the Dark Lord once more. "I wish this were over," she seethed.

"It will be," he said, his eyes falling down to her forearm where _Mudblood_ was written in angry sharp letters.

She looked at him searchingly as his expression took on an appearance of regret and sorrow.

"Do I want to know?" he asked finally, with a sigh. "I was afraid to ask…"

"After the war," she promised, leaning in to seal her promise with a kiss.

* * *

Hermione knew she had been rather lost trying to figure out things on her own – with his help, however, her plans to for him to survive Nagini's bite were coming together quite nicely. He had enormous amounts of wisdom and experience with poisons and their antidotes to offer her and she was deeply comforted by his newfound admission that he too wanted himself to live.

They stood around his cauldron on the bottom floor, discussing various ingredients that could possibly replicate an antidote for Nagini's venom. They were attempting to brew a preliminary version of the antidote, using their combined knowledge to attempt an original antidote. Just as Hermione added a touch of Unicorn Horn to the smoldering cauldron, the mixture turned a strange purple and began to boil vigorously. Snape stopped stirring with an expression of frustration and stepped away from the cauldron.

"That will never do," he hissed crossly.

Hermione looked at him sympathetically and said reassuringly, "We have plenty of time to get it right."

He nodded at her rather curtly, his expression rapidly twisting in pain as he clutched his forearm. "I'm being summoned," he said reluctantly. 

"I assumed so, go ahead, I will keep working on the potion," Hermione responded.

"We… the Dark Lord and I will be making plans to install me as Headmaster of Hogwarts. For obvious reasons, the Carrows cannot be in charge of Hogwarts. I might…. I might be gone for a while," he said slowly, sounding slightly anxious.

She smiled at him, picking up on the reason for his hesitation to leave. "I will be fine and I will be right here when you return. And hopefully much farther along with the antidote as well. Now go before you are punished for being late," Hermione said.

He raised an eyebrow at her and drew nearer despite the incessant burning on his forearm, "It's worth it."

He melded his lips with hers and ran his hands over her body, leaving her breathless and aching as he suddenly waved his wand and disappeared with a pop.


	21. Darkness Settles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The muse strikes at weird times when you're busy. Sorry for the wait for these last couple chapters, I shall try to be better about writing/updating in the future!

_Three days._ He had been gone for three whole days, and Hermione was beginning to worry about his wellbeing. _I'm still here, so he couldn't have been killed,_ she thought to herself, taking solace in the fact that a major rupture in the fabric in time would likely have a dramatic impact on her as well.

She had been rather productive in his absence and optimistically thought that she was close to discovering an antidote for Nagini's venom. _And much ahead of schedule,_ she thought with satisfaction – always pleased when her mental prowess was validated.

_Monday, July 21st, 1997,_ she ran her fingers over the date on the Muggle wall calendar hanging in Snape's kitchen, her mind spinning with each reminder of the date. _The time traveling is still taking getting used to,_ she thought ruefully. She quickly shook off her abrupt melancholy and set to work making herself some breakfast on this rainy Monday morning. The rain hammered down on the roof as Hermione prayed the rundown house would not spring any leaks. Not for any other reason other than she had misplaced her wand the day prior and she wanted to enjoy her eggs and toast without having to frantically search for it. _Perhaps a wandless spell would do the trick,_ she mused as the rain continued to pound down on the roof. She finished preparing her eggs and toasting her bread, sitting down at the rickety wooden table in the kitchen to enjoy the fruits of her labor.

Suddenly, she heard a faint pop outside the front door and the sound of wet squeaking as boots approached. A knock resounded on the door as Hermione quickly swallowed the bit of toast she was chewing and practically fled to answer it, relief coursing through her veins. She stopped short of the door, wondering how she would open the charmed and protected door sans wand, when the person outside the door called in.

"Severus?" the female voice sounded.

Hermione's blood instantly ran cold as she realized the person outside the door was not Snape.

"Severus, open the door," came the voice again, as Hermione finally placed it. _Alecto Carrow,_ she realized anxiously. _Well, this is disastrous,_ she thought as she frantically looked around the ground floor for somewhere to hide. Alecto Carrow did not seem like the type to simply walk away from a locked door.

"Severus, I wish to explain myself," the voice tried again, seeming rather done being patient.

Hermione ran to the kitchen to hide, feeling rather like a child playing a high stakes game of hide-and-seek without the availability of her wand. As she desperately looked around the kitchen, she heard a tapping and murmuring at the door as the rain had let up to quieter drizzle. With only seconds before Alecto entered the residence, she spied a blank section of kitchen wall with a strange pattern of bricks. She quickly felt up and down the bricks, nearly falling through the door that suddenly opened up to a flight of descending wooden steps. She sat down on the rotting steps to calm her racing heart as the hidden brick door returned to its original closed state.

She heard footsteps enter the residence as she sat in the darkness in what she assumed were the quarters Snape had allowed Wormtail to sleep. _Thank god he had mentioned a hidden cellar,_ she thought gratefully. Her gratefulness was quickly dashed as she heard the steps enter the kitchen and Alecto no doubt notice the half eaten breakfast sitting on the wooden table. _Oh my, all of my belongings are upstairs,_ Hermione remembered with a start.

She heard heavy footsteps on the main staircase and wondered if Alecto had suddenly left the kitchen, when a smooth voice said, "Alecto, what a pleasure to see you here."

"Severus," Alecto responded, pausing for second in greeting. "I rung at the door."

"I presume you knocked in this torrential rainstorm?" Snape responded.

"It _**was**_ rather loud," Alecto granted, giggling nervously in her typical manner.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" Snape quickly asked.

Alecto giggled nervously again. "I wished… I simply wished to explain… my proposal to you," she managed to get out, seeming uncharacteristically apologetic.

"I believe I explained to you that I have no interest in it," Snape said, his voice hardening with each syllable.

"I had forgotten… I had forgotten your origins. I did not mean to insinuate that I wished to torture half-bloods as well. Your magical abilities are, of course, beyond measure. I was simply hoping to have a bit of fun with some Mudbloods," she continued, "I did notice you were reading _Moronic Mudbloods_ , and I was hoping you may have had a change of heart."

"I was reading what?" Snape asked, confused.

"The book is bookmarked on the table in the library," Alecto responded in a confused tone as well.

_Well, at least that piece of propaganda nonsense I was reading for research is a good cover for Snape,_ Hermione thought, hoping he would recover from his confusion quickly.

Naturally, he recovered speedily and nonchalantly replied, "Oh yes, I was reading that a bit ago – I must say it has its merits."

Hermione could practically see the gleam in Alecto's eyes through the wall, as she responded with barely repressed joy, "I knew you would see the fun in my plan for the Mudbloods. After we storm the Ministry, they will be all ours to deal with as we see fit."

Hermione's blood boiled at the hatred and excitement in the loathsome woman's voice. She was unable to hear Snape's response as two pairs of footsteps receded into the living room. She heard the faint murmur of voices for several minutes, until she finally drifted off to sleep in the dark, exhausted at the mere effort of hiding from Alecto and relieved to be somewhere safe.

~o-o-o-o-o~

She awoke to bricks moving and light streaming through the entrance to the cellar. She felt her neck complain at the awkward position in which she had been sleeping and her arm felt strangely numb. The inscrutable face of Severus Snape hovered over her, arm outstretched with her wand in hand.

"I assume this would have been useful," he said, with his eyes narrowed.

"I… yes, I… I misplaced it last night," she said, scrambling to her feet and grabbing her wand gratefully. She searched his face, which held a stern and unmoving expression. "Thank you," she continued, hoping his face would soften, "I assume the charms on the house warned you someone had entered?"

"Yes," he responded curtly, motioning her out of the cellar and allowing the hidden brick door to shut once more. As Hermione's eyes adjusted to the light, she faintly realized that he did not seem to mirror her enthusiasm at seeing him.

"Is everything alright?" she inquired, confused by his cold demeanor.

He looked at her as if she was a child again, piercing her with eyes reserved for the worst of first-years.

"Do you usually 'misplace' your wand during wartime?" Snape finally said disdainfully, his tone dripping with contempt.

Hermione flushed, feeling like a scolded schoolgirl. She stared down at the floor, unwilling to look him in the eye. He continued, "I didn't leave you here to sit around reading useless propaganda and play house, Granger. Or is it that you have completely forgotten its wartime?"

Hermione looked up at that, her eyes flashing: "That's not fair, and you know it."

His eyes met hers angrily, refusing to soften. He held her gaze for a while as the air in between them thickened and swirled with anger. Abruptly, he dropped his gaze down to her lips and surged forward, crashing his mouth against hers. She was startled momentarily, before responding equally hungrily as he pushed her against the kitchen counter and continued to devour her.

He pinned her against the counter and harshly ground his hips against hers, pulling back when she gasped in pleasure.

"I'm not sure you deserve this," he growled in her ear, moving his lips down to her neck and sucking at her sweet spot. She felt her knees begin to grow weak as his lips returned to her ear, "But I deserve this, and so I'm going to take you hard and fast, and then I am going to return to what I was doing before Alecto decided she would drop by." He looked at her for a moment, his eyes questioning her consent, and when she nodded almost imperceptibly, he quickly divested them both of their clothing with a muttered incantation.

He reached a hand down to her wetness, smirking when he felt the copious amount that had pooled at her center. True to what he promised, he positioned himself at her entrance with no preamble, and thrust hard, sheathing himself inside her with a single thrust. He was quick and he was rough, and he came inside her far sooner than she had hoped he would last. When he withdrew from her, she was left aching and frustrated, and rather close to the edge.

"You are to wait for me to return," he commanded into her ear as he dressed them both again with a wave of her wand. "That desperate need you have right now for me – that is only a fraction of how much _I_ need _you_. Remember that and this had better be with you when I return," he said roughly, handing her wand to her and grabbing his from the nearby table. He recast a series of charms around the house and disapparated.


	22. Worse the Second Time Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii everyone! Sorry about being terrible about updating lately! The next couple weeks will definitely be better :)

She had gone to bed knowing he would return either very late or in the following days. She vaguely registered him slipping into bed in the early hours of the morning, wrapping a leg around his body and taking solace in his steady breathing next to her.

The morning of July 22nd dawned, the brightness lighting the small room belying the darkness that surrounded them and filled their very bodies. Hermione awoke rather suddenly, her dreams filled with torture and death. She was struck with a deep melancholy as she realized she was going to awake into this dark world for almost an entire year. In 5 days, Mad Eye would be dead. In 10 days, Rufus Scrimgeour would be dead. In a couple months, her closest friends would be tortured by the Carrows at Hogwarts while she did absolutely nothing – _could do absolutely nothing,_ her inner voice reminded her. _You're here for one reason, and one reason only. Ensure Snape's success and keep him alive._

In the grand scheme of things, her mission seemed so small – so useless. She turned to look at the sleeping figure of Snape next to her, running her eyes over the planes of his face and absorbing every detail. As he opened his eyes, she was struck by how handsome he looked at peace. _Not useless,_ a voice said to her, _everything about keeping this heroic man alive and bringing his tortured soul solace is useful. You cannot save them all._ She was reminded of a quote from the author Thomas Keneally, _"Whoever saves one life, saves the world entire."_

She sat up abruptly, embarrassed that she had even been questioning the value of her mission. She rose from bed, slipped on some warm slippers, and padded down the stairs. She busied herself making breakfast for the two of them, flipping eggs and preparing coffee in a picture of domestic Muggle bliss. The air was heavy, however, and hung with the all-too-familiar feeling of despair and gloom. _This is harder,_ she thought to herself, _it's harder when you're not in survival mode – endorphins and adrenaline sustaining you, guiding you, pushing you._ She acknowledged that theoretically she should have been more prepared for the stressors of wartime this go around, but instead she felt her frustration and feeling of helplessness compounding with each subsequent day.

She was shaken out of her musings by the sound of creaking footsteps on the steps behind her. She spun around from the kitchen counter, smiling broadly when Snape swept into the kitchen, fully dressed in his standard black robes. He smiled back briefly, before grabbing a plate of eggs and a mug of coffee and leaning back on the countertop to quickly scarf down the eggs. He sipped his coffee a little slower, explaining quickly that he had to leave right away.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," he said, meeting her disappointed eyes with a firm gaze.

"It's okay," she said, nodding understandingly. "I… I've been making lots of progress," she said hesitatingly, not sure whether the continuous reminder of his impending death would be demotivating, but wanting to share her progress.

"I'm pleased to hear that," he said – sounding rather proud. "I knew you would have lots of success at brewing an original antidote."

"Well, I had a remarkably talented potions master when I was younger," she said flirtatiously, leaning close to him and closing her hand around the coffee cup hovering close to his lips, "… perhaps you've heard of him? He can be rather abrasive upon first impressions, but I hear he's really quite sensitive." She placed the mug down on the countertop and brought her hands up to caress his face.

"Sensitive? No, I can't say that rings any bells," he said, pretending to think for a second.

She closed the gap between them at that, mumbling, "definitely sensitive," as she nibbled at his lips. He kissed her back firmly, cupping her face between his hands and holding her to him with a passion that warmed her down to her toes.

"I love you, Hermione," he said resolutely, pulling back for a second to look into her warm eyes. She smiled back at him and held his gaze.

"I love you too, Severus."

He planted a chaste kiss on her lips before bidding her goodbye and elegantly sweeping himself out of the kitchen with a practiced swish of his robes.

* * *

_Fuck,_ Hermione thought, standing over her cauldron in dismay. She had forgotten to ask Snape to pick up an essential ingredient for her reiterations of the antidote, and without it, she would be unable to make progress on the cure. Unwilling to waste another day reading something irrelevant from his library, she decided to procure the ingredient herself from the Apothecary on Diagon Alley.

It was only moderately risky, she resolved – and no more risky than any other thing she had done during wartime. In addition, after Ollivander's "disappearance," the alley had morphed from a highly-frequented location into a more 'shopping for necessities' location. There were generally very few Wizarding folk wandering the alley during any given time of day.

Having made up her mind to slip into the Apothecary and subtly _Accio!_ the required ingredient, she dressed to leave Spinner's End and covered herself in the invisibility cloak. She raised her wand with a flick of her wrist and apparated to Diagon Alley, pleased when she arrived with all her limbs intact despite being recently out of practice with apparition. Her eyes widened as she took in the state of the cobbled road before her. Numerous storefronts were smashed, reminiscent of Kristallnacht in the Muggle world, and the street was largely deserted.

Witches and wizards who were out and about hurried down the street, heads bowed as if they were reluctant to be noticed. Kids no longer skipped down the alley, laughing to one another, but instead clutched their parents' hands and quietly followed wherever they were being led. _The war was no longer coming to Diagon Alley,_ Hermione thought to herself, _it had long come._ She quickly spotted the Apothecary and rushed over to the thankfully still-intact store. As she contemplated how to get the door open without arousing suspicion, she heard a familiar voice from inside. A second later, the door opened and the pale figure of Narcissa Malfoy stopped mere inches away from her, head still turned as she bid her goodbyes to the shopkeeper. Hermione held her breath, looking around furtively for a logical way to move her body from the path of the woman, but found none.


	23. Discovered

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Sunday everyone!

Narcissa continued her path forward, exiting the Apothecary with her characteristic confident stride. Hermione had no choice but to freeze, each millisecond of Narcissa's inevitable approach seeming a hundred times longer. Within seconds, the blonde-haired witch collided with her – knocking her backwards and to the ground. Hermione recovered quickly, springing to her feet with her wand raised under the cloak as Narcissa registered fleeting looks of pain and surprise on her face.

The older witch drew her wand hesitatingly, muttering _"Finite Incantatem,"_ at the emptiness before her. Taking advantage of Narcissa's apparent confusion, Hermione turned to flee, but Narcissa had already followed up her unsuccessful spell with a _"Stupefy!"_

Hermione felt her entire body freeze as she her vision started to get foggy and eventually, everything turned to black, as she lay invisible on the cobblestones of Diagon Alley.

~o-o-o-o-o~

The next moment of consciousness that Hermione experienced left her feeling cold and trembling as her body lay against the cold stones of the ground beneath her. She vaguely felt herself slipping in and out of consciousness as the air around her chilled her body to the core. In her moments of consciousness, her eyelids felt heavy, as if giant weights hung from them and she felt herself unable to open her eyes for even a second.

Her dreams were violent and bloody, images of her friends and family members dying at Voldemort's hands – the life being slowly sucked out of them as his gnarly hands closed around their throats. She dreamed of Snape, his death playing on a closed loop continuum in her mind as she worked herself into a feverish state.

 _"Mudblood, oh mudblood!"_ The taunting voice rang in her ears as she struggled against her restraints. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, thumping against her chest as if it was screaming to be let free. Her entire body screamed to be let free; her muscles tense and blood pumping hotly as she attempted to break free from her binds.

 _"Bella, I told you, I have the situation under control,"_ Hermione continued to writhe against her restraints as the faint whisper of voices trickled into her consciousness.

_"Cissy, have you tried Crucio-ing it?"_

_"That's not the answer to everything, Bella,"_ a frustrated voice said back. _"Now go, the Dark Lord needs you to deal with other matters."_

Hermione slipped back into darkness once again, her mind finally giving her relief from the nightmares plaguing her.

~o-o-o-o-o~

Hermione awoke feeling remarkably well-rested, opening her eyes to dimly lit darkness. _I'm in a basement of sorts,_ she realized, taking in her surroundings. The basement was entirely made of cold stone and flaming torches adorned the sides of the archways, encasing the basement in a warm glow. She sat up, preparing herself to rise to her feet and make her escape when she heard a voice behind her.

"Well, well," the smooth voice of Narcissa Malfoy drawled, "I see the most we can do is awaken you."

Hermione stood quickly, pivoted and attempting to draw her wand before she realized that it was no longer in her possession.

"I assume you have tried to find your wand," Narcissa continued, holding up Hermione's wand in her left hand with a half-smirk, "I assure you it will not prove useful to you at the moment." She carried on, "In addition, all of the entrances and exits are sealed and you are unable to perform any wandless magic while you are in my cellar. Now… since your invisibility cloak clearly cannot be removed by me or any other, I would like to offer you a choice. Either you reveal yourself to me or I force you to reveal yourself to me. _Which shall it be?_ " she punctuated her last sentence harshly.

Hermione weighed her options, realizing that she had yet to be identified. However, the prospect of being tortured until she did identify herself was an all-together distasteful prospect. As she contemplated her options, Narcissa continued in her velveteen drawl, "I've been casting spells at you for hours, the most I've gotten out of you so far are some feverish whimpers. But if I had to guess, the Dark Lord would be immensely thankful if I delivered you to him. Now why were you following me and _**who are you?**_ I will not ask again," Narcissa commanded, wand at the ready.

Hermione stared at the tall, commanding figure before her and made the split second decision to take off her cloak.

"I wasn't following you," she said crossly, removing her cloak and standing before Narcissa as the witch licked her lips in satisfaction. "I had an errand to run at the Apothecary and you happened to be in my way."

"One of Potter's friends," Narcissa said, looking Hermione up and down, "I recognize you. From Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions."

Hermione remembered their encounter from their sixth year and was grateful that the elder witch had not noticed her significant age difference from the current day Hermione. _We must be in the cellar of Malfoy Manor,_ she thought to herself, trying to remember how Harry and Ron had made their escape while Bellatrix was torturing her.

As she continued to debate her next move, Hermione registered Narcissa – still with her wand pointed directly at her – looking pensive as she stared the disheveled girl up and down.

"What shall we do with you, hmm?" Narcissa taunted. Hermione struggled to think of an adequate answer, knowing that her question was likely rhetorical but trying to take the opportunity to weigh in nonetheless. _She cannot discover who I am. But she also cannot **not** discover who I am, or she won't release me under any circumstances._ The whole situation was causing Hermione's head to spin.

A loud ring, following by the subsequent melody of a doorbell sounded abruptly, and Narcissa hissed "I will return shortly," before muttering a quick spell in the direction of Hermione and disappearing up a stone staircase.

Hermione decided to take that opportunity to attempt to flee, moving in the general direction of the staircase Narcissa had recently ascended. However, she found herself unable to move her feet, struggling against the magical bonds that kept her feet firmly planted on the stone floor. Frustrated, she sat down with a grim finality to await her fate, wracking her brain to think of a way out of the horrible situation she had found herself in.

She heard the door to the cellar creak open once again a few short minutes later. Narcissa descended, followed closely by two other pairs of footsteps. As the dark figure of Bellatrix Lestrange came into view, Hermione knew that her fate – and fate of the fabric of time – was decidedly glum indeed. Bellatrix cackled gleefully upon seeing her and Hermione felt her arm tingle at the reminder of the evil woman's tortures.

A second figure soon came into view and Hermione's eyes widened in shock as their eyes met. The pale face of Serverus Snape registered an equal amount of shock as he quickly assessed her general appearance and realized that she was indeed the Hermione that he had left at his home mere hours ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: Reviews make me happy


	24. Where do loyalties lie?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully the holidays bring me more time to write, do not worry - this story will be completed, and as soon as I can! Enjoy and review, as always.

Today, his duties had called him to Hogwarts due to the need to arrange everything for the upcoming school year. The work was tedious, and he found himself missing Dumbledore’s wisdom and kind, gentle leadership. _You’ve gone soft, Severus,_ he muttered as he reviewed lesson plans. _Cavorting around with a Gryffindor and reminiscing about dead men._ _But for Heaven’s sakes, these lesson plans were absurd. “Studies in the history of effective torture (With live practice)”?? “How to pledge everlasting loyalty”?? These were not lesson plans, these were indoctrination plans. Subtlety was clearly no Death Eater’s strong suit._

He grimaced as he used his wand to strike out large portions of proposed lesson plans, opting for a more subtle approach to “furthering” Voldemort’s agenda. A knock sounded at the doors to his office, and he gratefully looked up and called out to welcome them in.

He immediately regretted his enthusiasm at the respite, as the domineering figure of Bellatrix Lestrange ushered herself into his office.

“Bella,” he said, as a way of welcome.

“Severus,” she said warmly in return, “It appears we have caught a traitor,” she said gleefully.

Severus paused for a moment as he wracked his brain for who it could possibly be.

“Where was he captured?” he asked Bellatrix.

“Cissy got him! Outside of the Apothecary on Diagon Alley,” Bellatrix responded.

“Has his identity not been revealed?” Severus asked.

“Not yet, he is still unconscious. But he was clearly pursuing Narcissa and appeared to be charmed with some sort of identity-hiding spell,” she responded. “Come with me, Severus, we are holding him at Cissy’s manor. You can have first go at questioning him. But I want the second,” she responded, her eyes gleaming maniacally.

He pitied the poor chap who had been following Narcissa. Today would not be a good day for him, especially at Bellatrix’s hands. Severus nodded his assent and allowed Bellatrix to apparate them to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

As they followed Narcissa down the cold staircase into the basement of Malfoy Manor, Severus could not help but feel a smidgen of pity for the lad downstairs. _Perhaps I will simply make a show of torturing him, but use the mildest of hexes_. _Of course, he deserves more simply for the idiocy of following the fair-haired witch but, regretfully, not everyone is born with common sense._

For a fleeting moment, along with that line of thought, he wondered if perhaps the idiotic Ron Weasley had been caught, but quickly dismissed that notion. Hermione had made no mention of it, and it seemed like a crucial detail of which she would have warned him. At that moment, as he lingered on thoughts of Hermione, he heard Bellatrix’s gasp of utter glee as the person in the basement came into view for both of them.

~o-o-o-o-o~

Never in his life had Severus been **that** certain that he was utterly mad. He stared at Hermione, his entire face blanching at her sorry state. _It couldn’t be_ , was his first thought. His second thought quickly followed, _not my Hermione, right? It must be young Hermione._ As he took in her disheveled outfit, though, and her mature appearance, he realized that it was indeed his Hermione.

Her face registered an equal amount of shock as she stared at Bellatrix, and then him, and then back at Bellatrix. _What does she look shocked about?_ he groused to himself. _Of course she must have **done** something to land herself in these precarious circumstances. _

Luckily, Bella had promised him first draw with the captive, and so he quickly seized the opportunity.

“Well well, what do we have here? If it isn’t the swotty mudblood…” he trailed off menacingly, looking her up and down scornfully.

At least she wasn’t completely lacking sense, and she played along, defiantly staring at him as she shook her disheveled hair back.

“I see Narcissa hasn’t broken you yet,” he licked his lips in a show of glee, “I believe I will take that upon myself.”

“And me,” chimed in Bellatrix with bared teeth.

“Ah ah, Bella, you promised me first draw. If you two would please wait upstairs,” he said with an air of superiority, “I would like her all to myself for a little while.”

“But Severus,” Bella whined, no doubt wanting to watch the mudblood be tortured.

“Bella,” Narcissa stepped in, catching the sense of authority in Severus’ tone, “Come,” she gestured upstairs.

Severus spared Narcissa a quick nod of gratefulness as the two women ascended, before turning his attention to the defiant girl in front of him.

~o-o-o-o-o~

“What were you thinking?” he practically screamed at the girl in front of him as soon as he heard the sturdy thud of the cellar door closing.

Hermione, for her part, managed to look contrite.

“I…I needed something from the Apothecary,” she said haltingly.

“You absolute idiot,” he said cuttingly.

“I wasn’t supposed to run into Narcissa, least of all ‘follow her around’ or whatever they think I was up to,” she replied with a characteristic toss of her head.

“Hermione, think,” he commanded, quickly switching topics due to the urgency of the situation, “How am I supposed to get you out of here without risking my cover?”

“I didn’t… I didn’t anticipate you being here, I haven’t thought out an escape plan with you here,” she replied.

“But you did think of one?” he asked.

“Yes. This isn’t my first escape from the depths of Malfoy Manor,” she responded dryly.

He quirked an eyebrow at that, but chose to ignore it for the time being. “You have one to two minutes to think about how you will escape safely with my help – but no harebrained plans. Think, Hermione, think. Our lives depend upon it.”

“Ours?” she asked back.

“You know I wouldn’t leave you here,” he replied in an annoyed tone. “Now think, put that brain of yours to some use.”

To her credit, she did go silent, and Severus could practically see the wheels turning in her head. At last, she looked up at him steadily with a grim face.

“My wand, it’s the only plausible way that I get out of here without outside assistance. Narcissa has it in the pocket of her cloak. Send her down with Bellatrix when you are done with me. And take it from her. Right cloak pocket. Make sure she doesn’t notice…” Hermione filled in Severus on the entirety of the plan, and he curtly nodded his assent before using his wand to unlock her right hand and re-chain it with slack.

“Hermione, we forgot a small detail… the… Bellatrix and Narcissa… they assume I wanted you alone for… a reason,” Snape said, wincing heavily.

“Do it,” she said.

“Hermione, even wand-made bruises will hurt,” he responded haltingly, “and the shame…”

“Do it,” she responded resolutely.

He looked at her sorrowfully as he pulled out his wand and cut harshly into her clothing, leaving her practically naked from the waist down. He then pointed his wand at her left eye, leaving a particularly nasty black eye in its wake. She grimaced at that, crying out as he trailed his wand down the outer edge of her ribs and left more bruises.

He stopped suddenly, unwilling to do her any more damage.

She looked at him resolutely, and said, “See you at home.”

He turned away, his heart twisting in pain, as he ascended the steps rapidly and called out to Bellatrix and Narcissa.

“Did she break?” Bellatrix asked with a glint in her eye.

“I am confident she is about to,” Severus responded smoothly as he brushed past Narcissa, deftly taking Hermione’s wand from her pocket and replacing it with his own. Hopefully Narcissa would only notice the weight of the wand in her cloak pocket and not examine it too closely.

* * *

Severus waited upstairs for exactly one minute, hoping Bellatrix could not do too much damage in that time, before quickly reopening the door to the basement and descending the steps.

He stole a quick glance at Hermione, who looked the picture of utter debasement as Bellatrix circled her like a hunter taunting her prey.

“Narcissa, a word?” he asked urgently, gesturing to the blonde woman watching from afar.

She looked at him in surprise, before nodding and walking over to him. He whispered quickly in her ear some fictitious story about the other two from the golden trio closing in on Malfoy Manor, as he quickly slipped his wand from her pocket.

Narcissa’s face grew growingly concerned as she turned to Bellatrix, and called out, “Bella, a quick word? You can trust that the girl is properly secured,” she said assuredly.

Severus muttered something about going up to check the charms on the Manor, taking a couple steps up the staircase; he waited for the split second that Bellatrix and Narcissa were lost in conversation to toss Hermione her wand.

She deftly raised her right hand, freeing it quickly from the loose chains and caught her wand, awkwardly hiding it behind her.

Bellatrix and Narcissa ultimately decided follow Severus upstairs to check the security of the Manor, hurriedly glancing over at Hermione to ascertain she was properly bound.

Unable to simply apparate out of the basement, Hermione waited a few minutes – certain that Severus had them checking far off corners of the Manor – before simply using her wand to free her binds. She ascended the stone steps, opened the unlocked door, and quickly scurried to the front door of the Manor.

And just like that, she walked out of Malfoy Manor into the humid heat of a British summer and apparated straight back to the last house on Spinner’s End.

She was home and in bed before nightfall.

* * *

Bellatrix was furious in the days that followed, while Narcissa was uncharacteristically calm when Hermione’s absence was discovered.

Severus thought nothing of it at first, the three of them having decided to never tell Voldemort that they had the girl in the first place.

As he perfected Narcissa’s occlumency with her the following day, he caught her regarding him with a curious expression on her face.

“What is troubling you?” he asked.

“The wand,” she replied, staring deeply into his eyes, “No matter how many times Bella swears I must have left it down in the cellar, or left Hermione improperly restrained… I know I did not.”

“We all make mistakes,” Severus replied consolingly.

“We do. But I did not, Severus. And… do you remember when I came to you? And asked you to take an Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco?”

“Yes,” Severus responded, confused about her line of questioning.

“Do you remember the look in my eyes? You had that same look in your eyes the moment you laid eyes on the girl,” Narcissa said, staring into his dark orbs with intensity.

He paled. She knew.

Still, he tried to convince her otherwise. “Cissy, you are mistaken.”

“I have had no reason to doubt you before, Severus. My loyalties are to my family first, and to the Dark Lord second. I will not question yours,” she said, an understanding expression crossing her face.

He stared at her, with both appreciation and a deepening sense of regard.

“Thank you,” he said finally, as she quickly resumed their practice of occlumency.

           


	25. Prized Pupil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a million other things I should be doing right now, but I promised an update soon and so here y'all go :) yadda yadda, reviews give me life, or something of that sort

"She knows?! What do you mean she knows?!" asked Hermione, furiously, her bushy hair standing up as if on edge.

He raised an eyebrow at her, no doubt questioning at whom her anger was directed.

"If I remember correctly,  _you_ decided to follow Narcissa around Diagon Alley," he said with a smirk on his lips.

"That is  ** _not_**  what happened, and you know it," Hermione ground out, not amused at his needling.

"Hermione," he tried again, this time more gently, "I have a limited amount of time away from the Dark Lord – is this really how you would like to spend it?" he asked. "I've ignored your blatant disregard for your safety, perhaps you can overlook the fact that Narcissa seems to have caught on to our antics at the very minimum. She no doubt thinks you are current day Hermione and that my regard for you is a pupil-teacher fondness for my best student."

Hermione smiled at that, "Best student?" she asked, quirking an eyebrow at him as they stood in his living room rather at odds, as if they were sparring partners.

"I didn't say  _I_ thought so, simply that she might…" he shot back, an equally amused smirk playing across his lips.

"Hmmm," Hermione said in mock thoughtfulness as she narrowed the gap between them, "Whatever could I do to convince you that I am indeed your most prized pupil?"

"Well, you could come up with an antidote for Nagini's venom from scratch?" Snape queried.

"Naturally yes, all in good time. But  **that** I can do alone. I was perhaps thinking of a different way to win the title of prized pupil…" she trailed off, leaving the edge of insinuation in her voice.

"Oh Miss Granger, what did you have in mind?" he said, trying to school his features as she approached him with a teasing grin.

"Perhaps you could give me some  **private** lessons?" she asked in a schoolgirl voice.

"And what exactly would these lessons entail?" he asked.

"Why, Professor Snape, whatever you wanted them to, of course."

~o-o-o-o-o~

As he grabbed her arm and quickly led her into his potion's room, Hermione began to wonder if perhaps he had missed the insinuation in her voice and was actually about to teach her a thing or two about potions.

 _Oh well,_ she thought to herself,  _at least learning is fun too…_  Even if she had technically been hoping to get fucked instead.

He led her over to the cauldron, assessing it with what seemed to be a pleased look on his face.

"It'll do," he said, quickly, turning back to her with what looked like a predatory expression.

Hermione gulped.

"So Miss Granger, I understand you wish to earn the title of prized pupil?" Snape drawled menacingly.

She nodded.

He continued on, "Do you remember when you ran away from me and I was stuck watching your slightly-younger self lust after that pathetic Weasley boy?"

"Perhaps," she squeaked out as he approached her, pushing her flush against the cauldron. She looked back, wondering if she would fall in if he pushed her much farther. Thankfully, the cauldron had a rather thick brim that she could support herself on.

"I kept having this reoccurring dream during those months," he said silkily, "It was you, in your school robes," he quickly waved his wand and transfigured her clothing into her standard set of Gryffindor robes, "… and me, taking you hard against my cauldron," his eyes turned black as his lips went to her ear and he breathed into it, "Would you like to be fucked against my cauldron, Miss Granger?" he asked.

Hermione swore she had never been this aroused in her entire life, as she managed to squeak out a quick "yes."

"I believe, first, you were trying to prove to me why you deserved to be known as my favorite pupil?" he asked insinuatingly.

Hermione got the hint, quickly dropping to her knees and ignoring the sharp sting of the stone floor against her knees.

She made quick work of his robes with her wand and took him into her mouth, marveling at how hard he was already.

Within minutes, he pulled her away from his length and told her to rise, grabbing her thighs and lifting her precariously onto the brim of the cauldron. The angle – surprisingly – was perfect due to the height of the cauldron, and he ground into her wetness over her knickers as he made quick work of her clothes, leaving her skirt and knickers on for the time being.

He kissed her roughly, trailing his lips down to her collarbone, and then down her breastbone. He paused for a moment, stepping back to marvel at the sight of her glazed eyes, panting mouth, naked breasts, and splayed open legs. She looked absolutely divine up against his cauldron.

He reached up under her skirt to remove her knickers, quickly tossing them on the floor and entering her with two fingers. He marveled at her slick heat, her core pulsing and pulling his fingers into its depths.

"Are you ready to earn the title of best student, Miss Granger?" Snape asked roughly, curling his fingers deep within her.

"Yes, oh yes, please fuck me against your cauldron, Professor," she said wantonly, finding her voice.

His eyes darkened, and he positioned himself at her entrance, thrusting in with no further preamble as he brought his fingers to her mouth. She sucked each one slowly, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, and whispered, "You must really want to be the best."

"You have no idea," she breathed back.

He found his release quickly, using his mouth to bring her to hers a few short minutes later.

* * *

She swung herself down from the cauldron, a satisfied and exhausted smile on her lips.

"So, how did I do professor?

He pretended to think for a few minutes.

"Exceeds Expectations," he replied with a smirk.

"Well then, it appears I have some work to do," she replied back, leading him up the staircase to the bedroom for round two.


	26. Grief

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticism, reviews, praise, anything and everything motivate me to write - especially when life is as busy as it has been! As usual, I will try to upload more often and as usual, I will probably fail. Buuut we are nearing the end of this work so I expect it to be completed within the next few months :)

Hermione woke up on the morning of her mother's birthday with a horrible ache in her heart. She longed for her mother's kind, indulgent smile and her way of making her feel like the luckiest daughter in all of the worlds – Magical and Muggle included.

It was mid-December again and snow blanketed Spinner's End as Hermione padded around the house in a mix of wool robes, thick socks, and sundry blankets. However, no amount of warm coverings could stop the chill that went through her bones on this day. She shivered involuntarily as she stood over the cauldron for the millionth time in the last few months, attempting to perfect her antidote.

She had managed to obtain a small sample of Nagini's venom – through means she preferred not to dwell on – and continuously tested her antidote against any unfortunate woodland creature that happened to run past the home. The antidote had been failing every time thus far.

The most success she had had was a baby bunny that briefly sputtered back to life, before disintegrating into a fit of convulsions. Hermione preferred not to remember the gruesome scene.

Suddenly frustrated at her lack of progress, Hermione sat down on the cold floor – willing herself to think of what ingredient could possibly be missing. Instead, her thoughts drifted to her mother – her smiling face as she looked indulgently upon her only child.

_Now now, my dear, these vaccines are for your own good. You wouldn't want the chicken pox, now would you?_ Hermione smiled at the memory of her mother offering her chocolates at the doctor's office, simply to get the willful toddler to sit still. The doctor had been rather unimpressed with her mother's attempts at bribery, but they had worked, and Hermione was vaccinated and chicken pox-free to this day.

As Hermione ruminated over her fond memories of her mother, she silently wished her happy birthday, before rising to her feet. She stood staring at the cauldron once more, the jar of Nagini's remaining venom in her right hand.

On a sudden impulse - she opened the jar of Nagini's venom and slowly dripped a bit of it into the cauldron. The existing bubbly green mixture began to hiss, swirling into a shimmery copper tone. Encouraged, she added more, emptying the entire bottle into the cauldron. The cauldron began to smoke, hissing loudly as it swirled. Hermione stared worriedly at the mixture for a few minutes, relieved when it began to settle. The final mixture was a translucent gold color, smooth and free of any impurities.

Hermione stared at the mixture, blinking rapidly in her disbelief. It looked to be the most promising version yet.  _If only I had more of Nagini's venom to test it out on_ , she thought regretfully.

* * *

At that second, as if she had rubbed a magic lamp and used one of her three wishes, Snape burst into his home clutching a small vial.

"Hermione, I brought you some more of Nagini's venom, in case…" he trailed off when he saw the shimmery gold mixture in the cauldron.

His eyes met hers, which shone back hopefully at him. They stared at each other for a few minutes, neither willing to break the anticipatory silence which hovered before them.

Finally, he spoke.

"Is that… is that the antidote?" he asked hesitatingly.

"I haven't tested it yet," she responded.

"It looks precisely like the sample that Voldemort had in the vault – the one that went missing…" he trailed off.

"I thought as much, but I wished for you to confirm, since you are the only person to have seen the original antidote," Hermione responded.

They stared at each other for a few more tense moments.

"Shall we test it?" Snape asked, his eyes boring into hers as if he could will the antidote to work.

"On anything but a baby bunny," she responded, "I have no desire to witness such a gruesome sight again."

Snape strode out of the house, and disappeared in a few seconds into the swirling snow, no doubt having apparated to some unknown location.

He returned within ten minutes, dragging something through the foyer of the home as Hermione chewed her lip nervously.

* * *

When the animal came into sight, Hermione gasped in shock.

"A HUMAN?! Have you gone mad?" she asked Snape, horrified. The bedraggled and unconscious man looked unfamiliar to her.

"He's scheduled to be killed, regardless," Snape responded neutrally.

"That doesn't make it alright to poison him first!" Hermione responded angrily. "Have you no morality?"

Snape looked at her impassively for a second, before hardening his features in a mix of anger and annoyance.

"We are testing the antidote on him, I will brook no further argument on this matter, Hermione," he responded.

"Then you will be testing the antidote alone," she responded huffily, striding past him and marching up the stairs.


	27. Concessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters may be shorter but will be posted more frequently the next few days given that I have some time on my hands :)

A hearty knock sounded at the door to the main bedroom, pushing the flimsy door inwards as the person behind the door waited to enter out of respect.

Hermione sat on the bed frame staring out the window. She turned her head at the knock to meet Snape's dark figure standing in the doorway.

"You may come in," she said wearily.

He came to sit beside her, his dark shadow dancing on the walls of the bedroom. The sun had set in the distance, casting his bedroom in an eerie glow.

It was almost a minute before he spoke.

"Hermione," he paused as she aimlessly looked out the window once again, "Hermione, please look at me," he said gently.

She continued to look out the window.

"I wish to say something to you," he tried again. "This isn't easy for me, and I am not entirely familiar with the concept, but I want to apologize for neglecting your feelings. I… I have been preoccupied with other matters and I have failed to recognize the continued toil that this war is having on you. I also have failed to be understanding of your integrity, and honesty, and goodwill – especially today. The Hermione that I know all too well stood up for the rights of house-elves; naturally she would abhor the idea of testing her antidote on a human. It is your antidote – if the day of my death is the first day we test it on a human, then it is the first day we test it on a human."

Hermione's head quickly snapped to his face as those words. He was regarding her with an understanding expression, and he reached out a hand to grasp hers.

She snatched her hand away, and said, "Don't be daft, of course we are not testing the antidote on the day in question on  _you_. I wouldn't take that risk…" she trailed off as she watched his expression turn sour.

"Hermione, if not that sorry excuse for a man downstairs,  **who**  may I ask did you plan on testing it on?" he asked, already knowing her response.

"I would have used animals successively – maybe those already injured – and well, then I was going to test it on myself," she responded.

His expression became one of incredulity. "She's mad. Utterly mad. I'm in love with a mad woman, of course I am…" he muttered to himself, rather loudly as he rose and began pacing up and down the small bedroom.

"The stressors of wartime may have made me more apprehensive, or absentminded, or rash, but I refuse to allow you to test my antidote on a human "prisoner." What even are his crimes? Was he given a fair trial?" Hermione said sharply, trying to interrupt his rhythmic pacing.

"That is besides the point," Snape muttered, still pacing loudly around the room.

"That is entirely the point!" Hermione yelled, "You are not testing the antidote on him, and today of all days, no less."

Snape paused his pacing to look at her. "Hermione, what is today?"

Seeing no point equivocating, she responded, "My mother's birthday. I was thinking about her and the Muggle vaccinations I used to get, when I recalled that a common ingredient in all vaccinations was the disease in question."

"Thus you added Nagini's venom to the antidote. I cannot imagine why that had not occurred to us before," Snape responded.

"It is less common of a practice in the Wizarding world… additionally, we did not have access to the venom until quite recently," said Hermione.

"That is true," he said. "Hermione," he looked deeply into her eyes, "I will do everything in my power to reverse the spell that you placed on your parents."

She looked up at him with a hollow expression, "My memories have started to fade… lose their sharpness, their clarity. I worry I am losing my parents all together," she said numbly. "It feels selfish, because they are alive and safe… but it does not stop me from grieving for their love still."

"I do not believe you know the meaning of the word selfish; not a single bone in your body is selfish. Come here, my love, I am sorry that I did not know what day it was sooner," Snape opened his arms to Hermione, who willingly leaned into his embrace.

~o-o-o-o-o~

Downstairs, the now-conscious bedraggled man tied haphazardly to a piece of furniture plotted his escape.


	28. Progress

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> reviews makes me almost as happy as writing this chapter made me :)

"Did you hear that?" Hermione paused a second as she drew away from Snape's warm embrace.

Snape listened for a second.

"I hear nothing," he responded.

"I definitively heard some movement downstairs, did you restrain the man downstairs properly?" she asked.

"A little haphazardly," he admitted, "Shall we go downstairs and check to make sure he has not fled? I can return him to the Manor immediately if you wish."

Hermione nodded her assent and they headed down the steps.

~o-o-o-o-o~

The prisoner was attempting to flee quietly out the front door, edging it open as he peered nervously outside.

" _Stupefy_ ," Hermione commanded, wand already out and drawn before Snape could react.

The prisoner froze instantly in his tracks.

"Impressive reaction time, my dear," said Snape approvingly.

"Please rid him from our house immediately," Hermione responded offhandedly, moving to the living room to ensure everything was in its proper place.

" _Our_ house?" Snape quirked a brow at her.

She smiled back at him over her shoulder and tossed her curls.

"Yes, our."

* * *

It was late by the time Snape returned from re-depositing the prisoner at the Manor and Hermione shuddered to think of what grisly fate the unknown man would endure at the hands of the Death Eaters.

"Now that I have taken care of that matter, perhaps we can return to discussions regarding on whom we will be testing the potion?" Snape asked Hermione as he slid into bed next to her warm body.

"Later," she mumbled sleepily, turning to give him a firm kiss on the mouth.

He kissed her back wholeheartedly, pouring himself into the kiss. He took her small whimper of pleasure as invitation to deepen the kiss and they laid on the bed, bodies entwined, making out like teenagers for several minutes.

When he finally pulled away, she nibbled at his bottom lip nervously and asked, "I was wondering if… well, if you would be here for Christmas? I haven't had a proper one in a while."

He looked at her regretfully. "Unfortunately, I cannot."

Her heart sunk.

"However," he continued, a smile playing on his lips, "I was wondering if you would simply like to celebrate Christmas a few days early this year? Especially given the fact that it is wartime and the days are all blending together regardless."

She felt her heart leap, "Really?" she asked. "I would love to, Severus."

"Tomorrow?" he asked.

"Tomorrow? Where ever will we get a tree by then? And decorate it? And I wanted to be all domestic for a change, and make Christmas cookies!" she declared.

He laughed at that. "How about I handle the tree, and you handle the cookies, yes?"

She nodded happily, and he kissed her on the nose in a rare display of utter affection.

Suddenly, he remembered that there was something else he had been meaning to ask her, "Hermione, I have a request to make… I visit Lily's grave every year at Godric's Hollow. Would you come with me this year?"

She smiled wanly at him, an expression of regret crossing her face.

"I would have love to come, Severus, but I'm afraid I cannot this year."

He nodded, "I understand."

"Next year?" she asked, her eyes shining brightly.

"Next year," he responded resolutely.

* * *

The morning of their makeshift Christmas celebration dawned bright and cold, and Hermione stretched her cold muscles before turning over in bed.

Snape had already woken up that morning, no doubt to find a suitable tree.

When she finally found the will to go downstairs, where it was several degrees colder, the sight of snow-covered Severus Snape pulling a giant evergreen tree through the front door greeted her.

She laughed richly at the expression on his face.

"Woman, I believe you have an easily accessible wand to help me with this blasted thing?" he asked huffily.

She laughed more and pulled out her wand to lift the tree from his grasp and gently place it in the living room. With another practiced swish of her wand, she started a roaring fire. A few more swishes and various items were transfigured into shining green and red glass ornaments and placed evenly on the tree.

He smiled at her enthusiasm. "I see you are still ever in the holiday spirit. You seem to have forgotten the mistletoe this year, though…" he trailed off as she added a sprig of mistletoe to the doorway to the living room.

"Never forgotten, simply the finishing touch," she responded lightly.

"And the cookies?" he asked teasingly, well aware that she had just awoken.

"All in good time," she responded, heading off to the kitchen to begin making her holiday treats.

~o-o-o-o-o~

As he watched her figure retreat from the foyer, he pulled a small red box out of his jacket pocket and stared at it for a few minutes, toying with the lid.

He opened the box tentatively, marveling at the intricate details on the silver ring.

_In the name of everything good, Merlin's I hope she says yes_ , he thought, placing the ring back into his coat pocket and going to join her in the kitchen.


	29. Silent Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life has been busy, but rest assured, this fic is not abandoned :) reviews make me happy yadda yadda

Hermione smiled as Severus swiped his thumb over her upper lip, a gesture to, no doubt, erase the milk moustache she sported.

They sat facing each other on the cold floor of the living room, the hearth warming them inconsistently. Hermione shifted slightly to warm the untouched parts of her body, watching Severus bite into yet another Christmas cookie.

He chewed slowly, regarding her with a curious expression on his face.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, unable to discern his thoughts.

“I’m wondering when we became so thoroughly domestic,” he replied, searching her face with an almost childlike expression of wonder.

“Domestic or boring?” Hermione asked in return.

“We couldn’t be boring if we tried,” he responded with a slight smirk.

The remark sobered Hermione momentarily, but she shook off her worries for the time being.

“Severus… I… thank you,” she finally settled on, struggling to express her feelings.

“For what?”

“For all of this,” she said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the tree and back towards the two of them.

He looked at her again, a curious and regarding expression on his face. He said nothing.

“I know we are not the most ‘normal’ couple, but I am truly in awe of everything you have accomplished and I am so honored to have had this time with you…” Hermione continued, filling the silence with her thoughts.

He continued to regard her, implicitly allowing her to continue thinking aloud.

“If… if the antidote fails to work _in vivo_ , I just want you to know how grateful I am to have been given the gift of this time with you, to have known you intimately, to have shared your worries, and thoughts… to have been able to know your very soul…” her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she struggled to continue.

He stared at her, suddenly bursting into a deep, rich laughter. She stared back at him perplexedly, a little hurt to not have gotten the reaction she had been hoping for.

“Severus?” she frowned at him.

“I thought I was the one who was supposed to prepare this whole bloody speech, and here you are doing it for me,” he said, still with traces of laughter in his voice.

Hermione stared at him, still perplexed. He began to reach into his right cloak pocket, pulling out a small red box. Her eyes widened, her heart pattering wildly as she realized what he was about to do.

She felt her left arm extend from her body of its own volition, and grab his wrist.

“Severus, stop.”

* * *

“Stop?” he asked her, his face beginning to show signs of sudden pain as his hopes came tumbling down in an instant. _Of course she didn’t want to marry him, why would she when she could do much better than a reformed Death Eater?_

She smiled at him, a bittersweet smile, cutting off his internal monologue with a practiced hush commonly used on children.

“I’m not saying no,” she said, looking him deep in the eyes so that he would believe her, “I’m requesting you to stop.”

He regarded her more calmly, his face pulling itself back into a mask of inscrutability.

“Of course, Hermione, I understand,” he murmured, despite understanding absolutely nothing. _Women really are something else_ , he thought to himself.

“Severus,” she released her grip on his arm, lifting her hand to his face instead. He flinched inadvertently, and she pulled her hand back, not wanting to upset him further.

“I want to marry you, I want that more than anything,” she said imploringly.

“Then what seems to be the issue? I fail to understand,” he said roughly.

“I can’t… I won’t… the thought of losing you to this war is unbearable to me,” she responded, “And I want you, every inch of you. I want to be yours just as much as I want you to be mine. But I can’t make you a promise I may not be able to keep. I never imagined myself falling in love with you – and I want you, us, to be my future. But I cannot bear the thought of saying yes to you, and losing you.”

He nodded, staring into her earnest eyes, willing himself to understand where she was coming from. “I understand,” he said finally.

She clasped his hands in hers, “Thank you,” she whispered, bringing his cold hands up to her lips and placing a single kiss on them.


	30. Author's Note

hello hello a quick note to say that, as this story begins to wrap up, I wanted to take any requests for any one-shots that people wanted to see. Please comment any ideas (or thoughts or feedback on actual content if you wish!). I'd like to write a few longer standalone pieces that also get woven into this story. 

-RIMSA


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